


Rise in Perfect Light

by Nostalgia-in-Starlight (UniverseEndingParadox), semperama



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel!Chris, Angst, Demon!Zach, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseEndingParadox/pseuds/Nostalgia-in-Starlight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never supposed to find home in each other. They never had the choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chris can’t remember ever having felt tired before, but he is tired now. Just the thought of continuing to put one foot in front of the other makes him want to yell, and yet he keeps going, doesn’t have a choice really. It would be a bad idea to just plop down in the dirt and wait for one of the enemy to come along and strike him down. Either he keeps fighting, or he ends up blotted out of existence, one more casualty of war. So it’s simple, really. He has to keep going, no matter how bad it gets.

It’s cruel, the way angels die so beautifully. Every time a burst of light in the distance draws Chris’s eye, it’s like a stab in the heart, but he can’t keep himself from watching the brilliant supernovas until they fade out, the colors dissolving into nothing just like the spirits they came from. Each little starburst is a work of art. Chris wants nothing so much as to never, ever see it again, but he can’t stop looking every time one of those flashes lights up his peripheral vision. It seems like it would be sacrilege not to witness the deaths of his brothers and sisters.

The demons, on the other hand, do not die pretty. They pass on much more subtly--a surge of darkness, a charred spot on the ground, and that’s it. And that right there is proof enough of their evilness, isn’t it? If they were good and right and pure, they would expire in a burst of light and color too, but instead they are swallowed up like the spirit realm is ashamed to admit they were ever there. Maybe that isn’t quite proof of what Chris should be fighting for, but it is enough to comfort him. It is enough that he can tell himself that even though he really never had a choice in whether or not to fight, he is fighting for the right side. 

Not that there’s a question of who the villains are in this story. Chris has a tendency to overthink things, but no matter how he thinks about this one, he can’t find a reason why he should feel guilty for killing demons. They bring destruction and disorder and a whole slew of other negative things, so they _have_ to be destroyed, really. It’s for the greater good, for his own safety and the safety of everyone else, spirits and mortals alike. Chris is one of the good guys. He’s fighting the bad guys. That’s all he needs to know.

His mistake is thinking that being on the right side makes him invincible. As long as he has existed, he has been told that angels are the heroes, and everyone knows heroes always win. He believes that is true with every fiber of his being, and it makes him feel powerful, like he is incapable of making a wrong move. It is just a matter of time until they beat all the vermin back to where they came from and go on with their lives. This is too easy to even be considered an actual fight, and with each enemy that he cuts down, he feels his confidence strengthen. Nothing can stop him.

Until something does.

It’s his own fault, really. It doesn’t even occur to him that they could be surrounded, that the enemy could come up _behind_ them. Maybe that is the advantage that demons have--they know how to fight dirty and use tricks that wouldn’t even occur to someone like Chris. He has never had someone deceive him, until now, so it would have been hard for him to see it coming. Despite that, and despite the fact that somewhere out there on the battlefield there is a general who will probably take the brunt of the blame for this mistake, Chris feels a little bit responsible and a lot stupid. 

The pain catches him off guard, not only because it comes out of nowhere, but because this is the first time he can remember ever being in pain. It feels cold, like an icy blade sunk into his side, and the shock of it is more debilitating than than the wound itself for a few moments. The first near-hysterical thought that comes to his mind is, _Well, that was rude._ Then, he staggers, nearly stumbles. He waits for the pain to fade, but it doesn’t, and soon it is joined by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, like all his energy is trickling out through the spot where he was hit. And that is...not good. His only hope of staying alive now is being able to fight back, but he isn’t sure that he is going to be able to, not when he feels this drained.

Slowly, painstakingly, Chris turns around to face his attacker. He is surprised that the killing blow hasn’t already come actually. Since he was caught off guard, it seems unlikely that the demon would miss, but even if he did, why doesn’t he just finish the job now? What is he waiting for? A chance to gloat? The opportunity to look Chris in the eyes before he snuffs the life out of him?

Chris should probably be scared now, but he feels only defiance. He lifts his chin and narrows his eyes as he studies the figure stalking out of the shadows toward him. The demon is a bit on the taller and lankier side, but otherwise he looks like all the others to Chris, dark haired, dark eyed, edges slightly blurry as if a shadow surrounds him. It seems unfair. Chris was almost hoping to see someone terrifying and imposing, someone worthy of felling an angel. It is humiliating to be taken down by a grunt who is supposed to be on the losing team. What happened to good always triumphing over evil? 

It isn’t until the demon gets closer than Chris feels his first little taste of fear. He is smiling a wild, victorious smile, and something about it makes the coldness from Chris’s injury spread into his chest. The air crackles around them, smelling of sulphur and ozone. Chris considers running, but there’s something keeping him rooted to the spot, and he has a feeling he won’t get far.

“Got you,” the demon says. His voice is deep and rich in a way that would almost be pleasant if it wasn’t so terrifying. 

“What?” Chris takes an involuntary step back, and the pain makes him wince.

“I’ve got you,” the demon sing-songs again, taunting him. 

No. No, he doesn’t. He can’t. Chris puts his hand to his side, the source of the pain, like maybe he can find whatever is tethering him to the spot and yank it out. There is nothing there though--of course there is nothing--and panic starts to well up inside him. He has no idea what consequences await him for being taken by a demon as a prisoner of war, but he knows that he doesn’t want to find out. Even though nonexistence is a foreign concept to an angel, he thinks that death might be preferable to whatever special kind of torture is certainly in store for him if he gets handed over as some kind of trophy.

The injury has weakened him, but it it hasn’t put him out of commission entirely--not yet. He has enough strength for just one more burst of energy, one last-ditch effort to shake himself free from his captor. He tries to quiet his mind, reaching inward for that last little spark inside him and focuses on making it grow.

“You can’t have me,” he says, his voice oddly calm. He waits until the energy is consuming him, sparking between his fingers and buzzing through his head, and then focuses it outward. It leaves him in a rush, whiting out their surroundings, engulfing them both in a cocoon of brilliant light.

Then, the ground splits in two.

Chris reaches out instinctively, as if grabbing on to the demon is going to save him. But even if he could be counted on to pull Chris to safety, he wouldn’t be able to now. They are both falling. Or are they flying? Chris sees blue and white and green and gray and a million other colors swirling across his vision, but he can’t find any landmarks, can’t tell which way is up. His first instinct is to beat his wings until he rights himself, but for some reason it isn’t working. There is a weird, empty ache between his shoulder blades and an unfamiliar heaviness in his limbs, and the pain in his side only seems to get more pronounced by the second. 

A hand closes around his wrist, and he knows instinctively that it belongs to the demon. Grabbing onto Chris isn’t going to do anything for him now though. Maybe Chris should be trying to get away from his captor while he has a chance, but some despairing part of him feels like it doesn’t really matter. They are probably both going to die soon.

The pain is searing now, more fire than ice, and darkness starts to creep into the edges of Chris’s vision. He doesn’t fight it. With a soundless sigh, he closes his eyes and lets unconsciousness overtake him.

Everything turns to black.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes to a world more vivid than the one he's used to, head spinning from the fall and body aching. Groaning loudly, Zach opens his eyes to a confusing mass of colors. The sky overhead is a mix of oranges, pinks, and purples the likes of which he has never seen before. Whites, greens, and browns swirl around in his vision and he has to blink a couple times to regain focus. When the world finally stops spinning, he levers himself into a more upright position. There's a heaviness to his body that is unfamiliar and discomforting, and Zach frowns when he looks down and sees smoking pieces of cloth covering his body. He doesn't remember being burned. 

In fact, he doesn't remember what happened. Not really.

Glancing around the clearing, he takes stock of the vegetation and the brightness of everything and decides that he must be in the mortal realm. The question is: how? Growling a little in frustration, Zach staggers to his feet and turns in a slow circle, looking for a clue. Though he feels more like himself with each breath, his mind is still at a loss for an explanation. He’s close to giving up and finding shelter until he can figure out a way to return to the spirit realm when he spots _it_.

There’s a figure lying crumpled a couple paces from him, unmoving. It’s swathed in white cloth and upon closer examination, Zach notices the way the cloths are smoking as if recently burned. 

An angel. 

Pulse suddenly speeding in excitement, Zach allows a slow smirk to curl his lips. Pulled along by the instinctual litany of _kill, kill, kill_ in his mind, Zach strides over to the fallen figure. The angel’s eyes are closed, unconscious. His face is pinched in an expression of pain that makes Zach’s whole body tingle in appreciation. Then, the angel is groaning softly, stirring awake, and gasping in confused fear. The last sound sends a flood of memories into Zach’s mind, and he finds himself flashing through images of the battle, the angels he killed, and...the angel that he captured.

“Oh—” he breathes lowly, face splitting in a wicked grin. This is his prisoner. _His._ Crouching down next to the angel, taking advantage of his disorientation, Zach runs a mocking hand down his heaving chest and doesn’t hesitate in pressing ungentle fingers to the wound on the angel’s side. A chuckle rumbles from his chest when the angel gasps and pushes weakly at him. Zach keeps his hand where it is.

“Wha–?” 

“You’re mine now,” Zach says, and grins some more when the angel focuses on him, clearly afraid. It’s...exhilarating. Eyes fluttering pleasure, Zach breathes in the angel’s fear and lets it energize him. The weakness from before drains out of his body within moments, much to his satisfaction. He needs to be fully functional to figure out how to get back to the spirit realm so he can turn in the angel before him. Any demon that brings back a live angel will be awarded a power of which he has never known, and Zach intends to do just that. Leaning over the prone form, Zach skims his hands over the angel’s body and muses at his own skill. He’s captured a fine specimen, worthy of the highest reward. 

“Get away from me!” the angel suddenly demands, somehow finding enough strength to twist away from Zach’s hands. Though the angel is panting from the exertion, Zach finds himself on the receiving end of a defiant blue gaze. His breath catches in momentary titillation, heart hammering in sudden heat. This angel won’t be going willingly. Releasing his breath in a long exhale, Zach chuckles to himself. The situation just keeps getting better.

“I hardly think you’re in any position to make demands.”

“What do you want?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Zach watches in dark amusement as the angel struggles to sit up. “Hmm,” he hums, tilting his head to appraise the angel and smirking when the angel manages to sit up, chest heaving. “What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you?” the angel retorts between gulps of air, glaring. 

Zach considers the way his blood rushes loudly in his ears at the sight and half smiles. “You’re my prisoner. I’d like to know what to call you,” he says and stands up so that he can look down at the angel. “Now. What is your name?”

Blue eyes widen slightly and Zach doesn’t miss the way the angel’s body is trembling. Even then, the angel still hesitates. Zach doesn’t think of himself as patient, but in this he finds that he can wait. He holds his ground and stares back. There’s no telling how much time passes before either of them gives an inch. “Go back to hell,” the angel sneers, frustrated.

Zach snaps.

Before the angel has a chance to blink, Zach’s hand is at his throat, forcing him backwards onto the ground. The angel struggles against him, but he is too weakened by the wound to do much damage. Zach barely has to fight to keep the angel pinned, hand never leaving his throat, fingers applying just enough pressure to make breathing difficult. “Is that the best you can come up with?” he challenges. When the angel doesn’t answer, he increases the pressure ever so slightly.

“Let go of me!” 

“Not until you answer my question.”

“Why—” the angel starts, but Zach cuts off his air completely. The body beneath him writhes against the lack of oxygen and hands push ineffectively at his forearm. It only takes a few seconds for the angel to stop struggling. Zach waits until the defiance has bled out of blue eyes before loosening his grip. He doesn’t remove his hand, however, while waiting for the angel to catch his breath. “It’s...Chris,” the angel pants, exhausted, refusing to look Zach in the eyes.

Zach hums in approval and removes his hand. “Chris,” he taunts, “I hope you’ve learned a lesson.” 

Chris sits up after few moments, eyes bloodshot from the lack of oxygen. “You wish.” Lips curling without mirth, Zach considers him slowly, allowing his thoughts to color with some intrigue at the continued false bravado. “What’s _your_ name?”

“Zach,” he allows after a beat of silence.

Chris blinks at that but recovers quickly. “You’re going to regret this, Zach.”

“What?” Zach asks, raising an eyebrow in mockery, “Taking you captive? I don’t think so.” He stands up before Chris has the chance to reply. Glancing around, he decides that they should definitely find shelter before too long. Mortal bodies, he knows from observation, don’t do well out in the wild without protection. It’s getting dark...and cold. 

“Come,” he commands, “we have to find shelter.” Chris looks like he’s about to say something in retaliation again but Zach’s patience has run dry for the time being. Without thinking, he reaches down and hauls Chris to his feet by the arm. Chris’s involuntary cry of pain from being handled so roughly while wounded does little to deter him. It takes a moment to regain his balance, but when he does, Chris immediately tries to shake Zach off. 

“I can walk on my own,” he insists when Zach doesn’t let go.

“Sure you can,” Zach says, and proceeds to drag Chris along by the arm. He better get the biggest reward for all this.

“Stop it!” 

Zach stops, but not because Chris wanted him to. He whirls around to face the angel, not in the least disturbed by the other’s disdain. They both knew who has the power here.

“You don’t really have a choice here, Chris. Now you either come with me willingly or I’m going to physically drag you with me. What’s it gonna be?” Chris scowls at him but Zach doesn’t care. After a moment, Chris’s shoulders slump minutely in defeat. 

“I’ll come.” 

Zach nods in approval and lets go of Chris’s arm. Chris immediately sways a little but shrugs Zach off when he goes to steady him. Eyes steely in determination and teeth gritting in pain, Chris stumbles past Zach and leads the way across the clearing and into the forest. Zach follows at a sedate pace, scanning their surroundings for shelter while keeping an eye on his angel. As the trees close in around them, he allows himself a smile of smug satisfaction.

~o~

It’s almost completely dark by the time they find it. After wandering aimlessly for a while, they chance upon another small clearing in the dense forest. This one, much to Zach’s delight, contains a small, abandoned house. The surrounding foliage has grown into the structure, a testament to how long it has been there. In Zach’s opinion, it is exactly what they need. Ahead of him, Chris lurches a couple of steps towards the house before stumbling to a stop, and Zach quickens his steps to catch up. He gets there just as Chris’s legs suddenly buckle beneath him. Without thinking, Zach reaches out and catches the angel before he has a chance to hit the ground, using their combined momentum to swing the surprisingly light body into his arms. 

“Let me down!” Chris pants, even as his eyes flutter in fatigue. He’s struggling again, twisting to get out of Zach’s arms but too weak to break Zach’s hold. “Just let me go!” Zach glances down briefly but ignores Chris’s words and heads towards the house. The angel is being an idiot, exhausting himself even though he has no energy to spare. Zach needs him alive. 

“Stop fighting me,” Zach says, “It’s useless.” 

“I hate you,” Chris fumes as Zach pushes open the half broken door and peers inside. “I hate you.” 

“Too bad.” 

Chris makes a sound of frustration, but stops struggling, limbs quivering slightly. Zach ignores him. It’s dark in the house, and Zach has to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust. There’s not much they can do for light, so for the moment, he has to rely on the faint moonlight streaming in through the broken windows and cracks in the walls. It’s just enough light to make out the living room and kitchen with the furniture still in place. The place is silent with the exception of Chris’s labored breaths. He spots a couch not too far from the entrance and proceeds to it, careful of his steps on the old and messy floor, and deposits Chris none-too-gently on it. Chris grunts in pain but doesn’t move. Most likely too worn out. 

“Stay here,” Zach says and doesn’t wait for an acknowledgement before he’s stepping away. He walks through the rest of the small house quickly, checking to make sure that they are alone before returning to the living room. Chris is still breathing heavily, but for now he seems to be cooperating. Zach stands over the angel for a moment, observing the trembling figure before settling himself in the armchair next to the old fireplace. There’s not much they can do until morning when there’s more light. And while he’s used to the dark, he’s not used to being a part of the mortal realm where his senses are dull in comparison. Plus, he’s tired, drained still from the fall; and he needs all his energy to figure out how to get back to the spirit world. 

On the couch, Chris’s labored breathing quiets into soft whimpers of pain, a sound that makes Zach’s skin tingle. He considers saying something for a brief second but decides against it. As long as Chris makes it through this alive, then it’s good enough for Zach. Tipping his head back against the still plush armchair, he allows his eyes to close.


	3. Chapter 3

Chris isn’t sure what it is that wakes him up--the weird churning in his stomach, the dull but persistent pain in his side, or the grayish light on the other side of his eyelids. He groans and attempts to roll over and return to blissful unconsciousness, but when the back of the couch stops him, the events of the previous night come flooding back to him all at once, and suddenly he is wide awake.

He opens his eyes slowly and blinks up at the fractured, stained ceiling. Maybe if he stares at it long enough, it’ll dissolve like a dream, and he will be back in heaven. But the longer he follows the cracks in the plaster with his eyes, the more real they seem, and the empty feeling in his stomach grows more insistent too, and he is forced to admit that this whole situation isn’t going to just magically fix itself. 

Slowly, carefully he shifts onto his side a little and peers at the demon--Zach, Chris remembers--who is sprawled in a chair nearby. His head is tipped back and his eyes are closed, and his expression is almost peaceful in sleep. And why shouldn’t he look peaceful? _He_ isn’t the prisoner of war. He isn’t the one with a wound on his side, or the one who is stuck in an unfamiliar place with someone who would love to hurt him. Not that Chris wouldn’t hurt Zach if he thought he could get away with it, but he feels drained and weak, like his last ditch effort to shake Zach off sucked the last of his energy right out of him. 

Right now he doesn’t want to dwell on his helplessness though. There’s still hope. He could still get away. With any luck, Zach was weakened by their fall to Earth too, and he has to let his guard down sometime. Actually...his guard is down right _now_. 

Chris watches him silently for a moment, trying to gauge how deeply he is sleeping. Zach’s chest rises and falls evenly, and his eyelids don’t so much as twitch, and even though Chris stares for a good couple minutes, he doesn’t stir a bit. Maybe this is Chris’s chance to get away. Gritting his teeth, he slowly levers himself into a sitting position, then swivels so he can put his feet on the floor, studiously ignoring the pain that shoots through his side for now. Once he is far away from Zach, he can figure out how to patch himself up. One thing at a time.

Chris presses his hands into the cushions at his sides and leans forward, summoning the willpower to stand. But just as he is about to move--

“Don’t even think about it.”

Chris recoils in surprise, then sucks in a sharp breath when the sudden movement lights up his nerve endings with another round of agony. Zach opens one eye, then the other, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, and then sits up a little, running a hand over his stubbly jaw. 

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” Chris insists, a moment too late to really be believable. And if the guilty tone of his voice didn’t give him away, the way his eyes dart longingly toward the front door certainly will.

“Are all angels such terrible liars?” Zach asks, pulling Chris’s gaze back to him.

“Are all demons such huge assholes?” he shoots back.

Zach laughs at that, the same low, satisfied sound that Chris remembers from when they met on the battlefield, only here it seems less threatening and more….something else. Something Chris doesn’t quite have a name for. It makes his stomach flip over in a not entirely unpleasant way and brings heat to his cheeks.

“I guess I caught a feisty one, huh?” Zach says. “And, yes. We’re pretty much all assholes. It’s kind of in the job description.”

Chris has nothing to say to that, so he bites the inside of his cheek and glares as Zach leans forward and rubs at the back of his neck, rolling his head from side to side like he is trying to get a kink out of it. Chris has a feeling that Zach gave him the more comfortable of the sleeping arrangements. He doesn’t feel at all guilty about it. He does, however, wonder why Zach didn’t just deposit him on the floor and take the couch for himself. Or, for that matter, why he hasn’t just killed him yet.

“So what exactly do you plan on doing with me?” Chris asks warily. As much as he doesn’t want to hear the answer, not knowing is a whole lot worse.

Zach arches an eyebrow at him. “You should already know that. You’re my prisoner. I plan on handing you over and collecting my reward.”

“Uhh.” Chris glances around them at the ramshackle house, then down at his own body, which is familiar but not at the same time. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re sort of stuck here. I don’t think you’ll be collecting anything any time soon.”

There are ways to get back to the spirit realm. Chris knows it, and he is pretty sure that Zach knows it too. Spirits pass between worlds all the time, either to protect mortals or to tempt them, and even though this is Chris’s first time here, he knows the basics of how to get back. There are doorways, and if he was a little stronger, he would probably be able to sense where the nearest one is. But he can’t. And that’s how he knows they are stuck. Whatever it was that he did back when Zach first captured him, whatever burst of energy he had put out, it had weakened him, and he is almost certain it weakened Zach too, otherwise they wouldn’t still be sitting here.

His suspicions are confirmed when Zach scowls. “This is just temporary. We’ll get our strength back.”

“And you think I’m just going to come along quietly when we do?”

Zach runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully, then shrugs. “I don’t think you’ll have a choice.”

He’s bluffing. He has to be bluffing, right? Chris remembers the odd sensation of being stuck to the spot when Zach first attacked him, but surely that doesn’t mean they are _literally_ stuck together. And even if they were, it seems unlikely that it would carry over to their mortal bodies. Chris wishes he had paid closer attention to the stories of wars past, or that he’s older and had lived through some of them himself, so he had something he could hold over Zach’s head. Right now, he feels powerless and lost.

The front door isn’t so far away. If he catches Zach off guard, maybe he could make it out ahead of him, and then lose him in the woods. It seems like there would be plenty of places to hide out there. And if there really is something binding him to Zach, maybe if they get far enough apart the connection will snap. It seems like his chances are better out there than in here anyway. In here, he _knows_ he is headed for a fate worse than death. Out there he has a shot, even though he’s weak and wounded.

“And what’s the plan in the meantime?” he asks, trying to deflect, keeping his expression neutral as he looks back at Zach. 

Zach lets out a weary sigh and scrubs his hands over his face, and that’s all the opportunity Chris needs. He is up and off the couch in an instant, even though his whole body is screaming at him for it. He doesn’t waste time looking back to see if Zach is coming, just sprints for the front door as fast as his frail, human legs will let him. It’s just a few feet away, then it’s right in front of him, and when he reaches for the doorknob, he is almost positive he’s going to make it. He’s even smiling when he wrenches the door open and takes that first step into the morning sunlight.

The pain hits him before he can take a second one. 

It’s not like the pain in his side, which started out sharp and burning but has faded to a persistent ache. No, this feels like being eviscerated. It feels like someone is trying to tear him apart from the inside out with their bare hands. He would shout if he could, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out but a hoarse whine. 

Chris’s knees give out, but just as he about to collapse on the front step, a strong arm wraps around his waist and tugs him backward. The effect is instantaneous. As soon as he sags back against Zach, the pain starts to subside, slowly but surely. Chris wraps his fingers around Zach’s wrist like he is afraid he’ll let go and takes in great gulps of air while he tries to get his feet back under him. It’s a few seconds before he can remember to be embarrassed by how heavily he is leaning against the demon who is supposed to be his enemy.

“Told you that you didn’t have a choice,” says a low voice in his ear. Chris shivers involuntarily.

“Did you know?” he gasps. “Did you know that would happen?” He finally has the strength to turn around and look at Zach, who doesn’t move back to give him any breathing room. He keeps a hand on Chris’s elbow, like he is afraid he’ll start to fall again.

“No,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I figured there would be something, but…” He trails off, and then a grin spreads across his face. “I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

“Sadist,” Chris spits.

“Demon,” Zach amends. “Seriously, what were you expecting?”

Chris makes a frustrated sound and shakes off Zach’s arm, then pushes past him back into the house. He is all set to march back to the living room whether Zach is coming or not, but then he remembers the consequence of getting too far away from him and looks over to make sure he is with him. Zach looks unbearably smug, but he follows, close enough that Chris can almost feel his breath on the back of his neck. The fact that it’s almost _comforting_ to feel him there makes Chris want to howl with rage.

He’s very happy once he is sitting on the couch again and Zach is a safe distance away. It’s easier for him to think. It’s easier for him to remember that Zach isn’t really taking care of him so much as he is making sure nothing happens to his important angel trophy. 

Unfortunately, now that he isn’t in excruciating pain and worried about Zach’s close proximity, he has to actually think about how horrible this new development is. So much for getting away from Zach. He is not in a hurry to have that experience again, and he doesn’t want to test whether or not pushing through it would kill him. He isn’t sure he _could_ push through it before falling unconscious, or worse.

“You should just let me go,” Chris says, even though he knows his chances of winning this argument are slim to none. He has to at least try.

Zach hasn’t sat down again. He is pacing around the room, peering at broken furniture and opening random drawers. He doesn’t even look up when Chris speaks, giving his plea hardly any attention. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Zach.” Chris rubs at his temples while he tries to think of something convincing to say. “Look, it’s bad enough we’re stuck here. Who knows how long it’ll take us to get back? You can’t just drag me along like...like some dog on a leash the whole time.”

“Watch me,” Zach says, still not even giving him the courtesy of looking at him while he’s talking to him.

“I could just try running again.” Chris tries to infuse his voice with bravado, but he isn’t sure if it’s working. “It might kill me. Then you’d lose your prize for sure. The way I see it, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Zach turns to him only briefly, arching an eyebrow and then shaking his head, a small smirk on his lips. “You won’t do that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Zach shrugs likes it’s obvious. “You’re an angel. I’m sure you’re all full of faith and hope and ridiculous shit like that. As long as there’s still a chance you could get away, I doubt you’ll be in a hurry to fall on your sword.”

He is at least half right. Chris isn’t sure whether it’s hope or just survival instinct, but it would be hard to justify going through that kind of pain again if there is even a little bit of a chance that he might find a way out of this. Or just luck into a way out of this. He lets out a little frustrated huff and resists the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a pouty child. Fine. Let Zach be stubborn. He hasn’t won yet. He hasn’t won until they get out of here.

For now, there are other problems. His clothes aren’t so much clothes as they are charred rags, and their mortal bodies are going to need food sooner or later, so hiding here in the middle of the forest isn’t going to work long term. “Alright, so I’m stuck with you.”

“Mmm. Quite literally.” Zach turns back to the end table he was rifling through a moment ago and continues pawing through it, a dissatisfied frown on his face.

“And we’re stuck here together for who knows how long.”

“Sure seems that way.”

“And you need to keep me alive and healthy.”

Zach lets out a long-suffering sigh and finally stops his enigmatic inspection of the room, turning toward Chris with an expectant look. “Are you trying to make a point?”

Chris puts on his sweetest, most angelic smile and nods, patting his stomach. “I’m hungry.”

Zach’s expression darkens for a moment, but then it turns resigned, probably because he realizes that he is going to need to eat too, at some point. Still, he can’t seem to resist getting a little dig in. “You’re going to make me regret all of this, aren’t you?”

For the first time since this whole ordeal started, it’s Chris’s turn to be smug. “I’m sure going to try.”


	4. Chapter 4

They leave the house at dusk. Even in human form with his senses dulled, Zach still feels more comfortable in relative darkness. He's leading the way through the forest while Chris follows. Though he can hear Chris's heavy footsteps behind him, Zach still glances periodically behind to make sure the angel is keeping up. He's not expecting Chris to attempt another escape; though a part of him yearns for the exhilaration of feeling that powerful again. Chris had accused him of being a sadist, but Zach has no interest in curbing his nature for the sake of his prisoner. Negative energies like pain and fear make him feel alive. He has never known anything else. 

Well...with one exception.

Zach glances behind again to see Chris struggling to keep up, a pained expression on his face. Dressed in the drab clothes Zach had found earlier while rummaging through the various drawers, the angel looks disheveled. Unkempt. He takes the moment to rake his eyes up and down Chris's body and is entirely unsurprised at the heat stirring in his abdomen at what he sees. Chris can call him whatever he wants, but Zach is proud to be a demon and demons are known for their unabashed indulgences of their primal urges. And unfortunately for Chris but fortunately for Zach, he has regained enough energy overnight for the primal part of him to take notice of his physically appealing and delectably vulnerable prisoner. 

"Move faster," Zach calls just to mock and is all too excited at the way Chris's head jerks up in surprise at the sound of his voice. He thinks of the way his hands had felt wrapped around the angel's neck and the way Chris's resisting body had felt underneath him in the clearing and can't help the breath of appreciation at the memory. 

"Told you it's a bad idea to drag me around like a dog," Chris snarks when he comes within arms reach, cheeks flushed from exertion. He stops to lean heavily against the trunk of a tree and can't quite hide the grimace of pain from crossing his face. Zach takes the moment to appreciate the blue of his eyes and the clean lines of his body and grins wolfishly. There's potential for some fun before they return to the spirit world. 

His grin turns into a smirk when Chris glowers at him. "You're stuck with me," Zach gloats as he starts walking again.

"Sucks for me," Chris retorts, "I'm stuck with a sadistic, stupid demon who can't figure out how to stop walking around in circles."

Zach pauses, turning. "Stupid?" Something must show on his face because Chris's eyes widen slightly at his expression. It's oddly satisfying.

"I'm just saying," he mutters. 

Raising an eyebrow, Zach gives Chris a long considering look but decides against punishing him for the comment, even though his hands itch to wrap around that throat again. Chris will learn in time. 

He turns away and closes his eyes, concentrating on the fuzzy edges of his thoughts. Intuitively, he knows that the fuzziness is what's keeping him from sensing the doorways back to the spirit realm. He's just not strong enough to find them yet. At least he hasn't lost the ability to sense the negative energies some humans carry around. Opening his eyes, Zach starts walking in the direction of the negative energies and doesn't bother to make sure Chris is following. 

It doesn't take long for them to reach the small town on the edge of the forest, though they remain just under the cover of the trees so not to be seen. The goal, at least in Zach's mind, is to obtain food and leave. He stops to scan the area while waiting for Chris to catch up. There's a small grocery store just up ahead and Zach immediately heads in that direction. It doesn't occur to him until he's standing in the shadows behind the building that they don't have any money on them. It's not like the spirits use currency like the humans do. He's biting his lip in frustration when Chris finally catches up, out of breath and looking worse for wear than he had the last time Zach had stopped to look. 

"So, what now, oh great demon?" Chris manages to gripe even between large gulps of air. "I'm really hungry, so you better figure out something quick." He's swaying a little on his feet again, and Zach reaches out to hold him up against the wall of the building without thinking about it. To his surprise, Chris doesn't try to shove him away. Instead, the angel sags a little against the wall, head dropping back to lean on the concrete. Despite himself, Zach frowns a little in concern before schooling his expression. 

It's not like he's actually concerned or anything.

"Watch and learn," he says quietly and focuses inward to better concentrate on broadening his senses. It takes surprisingly little time to sense a human putting off enough negative energy to entice his mind. Taking a deep breath, he concentrates on the dark aura surrounding the person and uses it to channel suggestions into the human's thoughts. Zach feels it the moment his projections start to have an effect and is immensely pleased to know that even in mortal form he is still able to use some of his demonic powers. 

"What are you doing?" Chris asks, but Zach shushes him with a sharp jerk of his head. His eyes remain closed in concentration for sometime until the sound of footsteps nearing bring him out of his trance-like state. 

He hears a sharp inhale of surprise from Chris just as his eyes sweep open. There's a large man standing just a couple of steps from them, two very full bags of groceries in hand. "Zach?" 

Zach's lips curl a little, smug. "Watch and learn," he repeats, brows dipping in concentration. The man moves towards them and comes to a stop right in front of the corner they're standing in. Chris's breathing hitches slightly in accordance with the sudden tingling over Zach's skin as he feels the brush of the angel's fear against his awareness. He almost wants to laugh. What is there to be afraid of? He's in complete control of the situation.

From this distance, Zach can see the blank stare in the man's eyes and mentally congratulates himself for his own ability. He projects another suggestion and the man sets down the two bags before walking away. Zach waits until he's a safe distance away before breaking the connection. The man won't remember a thing. He's made sure of it. Stooping to pick up the two bags, he turns back to Chris with a full blown smirk on his lips. 

"See? Not as stupid as you thought."

"You..." Chris starts, searching for the right words. "You made that man get us food?" 

"I did," Zach confirms. He doesn't know what the expression on Chris's face is supposed to mean, but he can hear the disapproval in Chris's tone. 

"That's stealing!" 

"So?"

"It's not right!" 

Zach isn't impressed. "I got us food. Quit complaining." Chris's mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something else but can't quite get the words out. "I don't see you coming up with any better ideas, so you're just going to have to shove your delicate angel sensibilities." Chris huffs a breath and glares but doesn't make another comment. He does, however, stubbornly refuse to follow when Zach moves to leave. 

Exasperated, Zach sets down the bags heavily and turns to Chris. With a few long strides, he's crowding Chris up against the wall with his body. Ignoring the startled sound he elicits, Zach presses in as close as he can, trapping Chris's slightly smaller frame and effectively stopping Chris's attempt at struggling, and revels in the excitement of feeling Chris's racing heartbeat underneath. He leans in close and makes a show of breathing in the angel's scent. Chris shivers. "You know you're stuck with me. You said so yourself. Now be a smart little angel and stop trying to fight me. We both know who will win."

"You’re vile," Chris spits after a moment, but there isn't as much bite to the words as Zach expected. "I hate you." 

He pulls back a little to get a good look at Chris's face. "Like I said, that's too bad." Chris huffs again and looks away, but he still doesn't try to push Zach away. 

Well. This just keeps getting better. 

Zach steps away after a moment and walks to picks up the two bags of groceries on way. "Let's go."

~o~

Chris promptly collapses in the doorway the moment the door swings open and hits the creaky floorboards with a muffled thud. Caught completely by surprise, Zach trips over him and stumbles a few steps into the house before managing to regain his balance. Fortunately, he's able to keep his grip on the bags of groceries, but quickly sets them down on the floor. "What the hell, Chris?" he demands, half-rushing to Chris's side. The only response he gets is a loud groan. Reaching down Zach rolls Chris over and frowns at the tight lines of pain on Chris's face. 

"Why didn't you say something?" he asks, not out of concern of course, but because he needs the angel alive. He'd be the laughing stock of the other demons if he can't bring his prisoner back alive. A dead angel is just as good as no angel.

"I don't like you," Chris grits out between clenched teeth.

Zach's eyebrow shoots up at his words. "That's an improvement," he smirks. "Come on. Get up."

"I can't."

"Don't be a wimp."

"Why do you care?" Chris mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. Zach releases a long suffering sigh and moves without warning to pick Chris up from the floor. "Hey!" Despite voicing a protest, Chris doesn't struggle in Zach's arms. And...a little despite himself, Zach's skin once again tingles in excitement. He deposits Chris on the couch just as he had done the night before. This time he doesn't have to tell him to stay.

"Don't think you're winning any points just because you got the food," Chris says when Zach moves around the couch to rummage through the bags for something to eat. The moon is brighter tonight and he's able to make out most of what's in the bags. 

"I'm not trying to win any points. Just trying to keep you alive and healthy long enough to turn you over and reap some well earned rewards," Zach reiterates, padding over to set the prepackaged meals on the dusty coffee table. They'll probably have to figure out a system for cooking later. "You'll be rid of me then... though you'll probably miss me when I leave." He tears open one package and holds it out to Chris.

"Why would I miss you?" Chris retorts, but levers himself up to a sitting position and takes the offered food.

Zach pretends to consider his answer while opening a tray for himself. He looks up and meets Chris's eyes in the dim lighting. "The others won't be trying to keep you alive." It takes a moment for the words to sink in and the fear that floods Chris's expression is comical. Without breaking eye contact, Zach takes a bite of his food and marvels at the heightened sense of taste his human body has. His lips curl into a mirthless smile. "Feeling lucky yet?"

Chris recovers enough to glare. "Asshole."

"Eat your food." For a moment, Chris looks like he wants to say something more but then obliges. Zach smiles thinly, this time in satisfaction. They're silent as they eat, and some of the animosity in the air starts to fade. Caught up in feeling some more of his strength returning, Zach focuses inward only to find the edges of his thoughts still fuzzy. He frowns in frustration, but then decides another night of rest would probably be the best course of action anyway. Besides, he thinks, his angel is not yet recovered enough to be turned in anyway.

They finish their food around the same time and Zach gets up to throw away the containers in an old bin without saying anything. Chris lets him take the trash without comment. Zach takes the bags into the kitchen area to sort through the contents. There's more light in there so at least it's easier to see. Aside from the assortment of bread, cheeses, jellies, and other easy to prepare food, he also finds a package of candles and a small first aid kit. Commending himself on a job well done, Zach is just about to put everything away when Chris calls to him from the living room.

"What?" he asks when he peeks back into the room, slightly miffed at being interrupted.

"It hurts!" Chris groans in reply.

Zach almost rolls his eyes at the slightly pathetic tone. "Thought I said not to be a wimp," he says dismissively and starts to turn back to the kitchen.

"I'm serious!" Sighing loudly in displeasure, Zach pads over to the couch, intending to placate the angel so that he will stop complaining. He feels a definite rush of concern, however, when he finds Chris curled up on the cushions, chest heaving in obvious distress. 

"What is it?" he asks, crouching down to be level with Chris's face. "You better not be dying of something."

Chris groans again, and this time it's just as much in frustration at the situation as it is in pain. "If I'm dying, it's your fault!" 

"What-"

"You did something to me on the battlefield," Chris accuses, cutting him off. Oh. Zach's brows dip in a frown. He does remember that. He didn't know that injuries carried over to the mortal world too. 

"Let me see," he says, and makes a move to touch Chris.

"No!"

"You called me over for a reason, Chris. Let me see." It's probably a testament to how awful he must be feeling that Chris only hesitates for a brief moment longer before uncurling a little in defeat. "Where does it hurt?"

Blue eyes find his and holds his gaze before squeezing shut in pain and humiliation. It doesn't bother Zach. "Right side." He reaches out to peel back the layer of clothing covering Chris's side and frowns immediately at what he sees. There's a dark shadow marring the skin, but he can't make out any more than that.

"Hold on," he instructs and stands to rush back to the kitchen. It takes him almost no time to gather the first aid kit and supply of candles before returning to Chris's side. With sure hands, he lights the candles with a lighter he had found in the bag and holds up the light source to get a better view. Chris props himself up on an elbow to look as well. 

"What'd you do to me?" Chris asks, voice shaking, but Zach doesn't really have an answer. Under the candlelight, the affected area looks like it had been charred by fire; burned. It's no wonder Chris is in pain, has been in pain this whole time. 

"Looks like a burn wound," Zach says after a moment and sets the candle down to rifle through the first aid kit for something to put on the burn. He's trusting intuition on this one. It's not like he's had to ever deal with wounds before. Out of pure luck, he finds what he's looking for and pulls out the small tube of burn cream. "Here." He holds out the tube to Chris, knowing the angel wouldn't want him to apply the medicine since it would require undesired skin contact. Which is exactly why Zach is thoroughly surprised when Chris looks between the tube and his face then shakes his head.

"You do it."

"What?"

"Just-" Chris says, falling backward onto the couch in a boneless sprawl. "Just do it." Well. Zach can't really say no to that. He uncaps the small tube and squeezes a generous amount of cream onto his fingers. The first touch to the burn has Chris's whole body seizing tightly in agony. His body arches off the couch and inadvertently into Zach's hand. But Zach barely notices. All thoughts fled his mind the moment his fingers came in contact with overheated skin, and he's aware of little besides the rapid pooling of heat in his abdomen and the sudden flood of lust permeating his mind. He freezes, hand still on Chris's exposed skin. There's a large part of him screaming for him to just do something, but there is also an unexpectedly strong part of him restraining any sudden movements. 

"Zach?" Chris's voice is quiet, uncertain, and not what Zach expected to break him out of his trance. He breathes in deeply once, twice, before looking up from where his gaze had been trained on Chris's side. For some reason unknown to him, the overwhelming lust drains away at the concerned and slightly frightened look on Chris's face. 

"Nothing," Zach mutters, and quickly finishes rubbing the cream into the burn. He jumps up as soon as he's done, tossing the tube of medicine on the coffee table and stalking out of the room towards the stairs. Chris doesn't call after him, much to his relief. Zach opens the door to the bedroom he had briefly explored earlier today and collapses onto the dusty bed. Something isn't right. He's never restrained himself from his instincts before. He's never had the desire to. Any other time, he would have given himself over to his primal, demonic nature and taken advantage of Chris. He doesn't understand why he didn't just now. Squeezing his eyes shut, Zach makes a noncommittal sound of frustration, thoughts racing and body still heated with residual emotion.

Later, much later, he finds himself standing over Chris as the angel sleeps, a deep frown marring his face. Something isn't right. Leaning down, Zach trails a hand over the contours of the angel's face, careful not to wake him, and bites his lip at the want, denial, and confusion that color his thoughts. He doesn't, however, distrust his instincts this time and leans even closer to steal a kiss from the angel's full lips. Chris doesn't wake but makes a small noise of content. The sound sets Zach's heart racing anew.

Something is definitely wrong with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We really appreciate your support.


	5. Chapter 5

Even though it’s only the second time it’s happened, Chris is already tired of waking up on the dirty, old couch. In addition to the pain he’s already in, there is now a crick in his neck and his back feels strange and uncomfortable. Just sitting up makes him groan. As if on cue, Zach appears at the bottom of the stairs and shoots him a questioning eyebrow.

“How come you get the bed?” Chris asks petulantly, putting his hands in the small of his back and then arching it, grimacing as it pops. “These human bodies kind of suck. A lot.”

“I get the bed because I’m the captor and you’re the captive. You’re lucky I don’t make you sleep on the floor,” Zach quips as he walks past Chris toward the kitchen.

Chris scowls at the back of his head, but somehow he knows that he is in no actual danger of having to sleep on the floor. Or any other form of torture, for that matter. Zach might not be a paragon of virtue, but he certainly hasn’t turned out to be the kind of evil, terrifying thing that goes bump in the night that Chris was led to believe all demons were. Maybe all the propaganda wasn’t true. Or maybe Zach just doesn’t feel the need to be horrible to Chris since he knows what’s coming to him when he turns him over to the others. 

That is, if Chris doesn’t find a way out of this first.

With a sigh, he pushes himself up off the couch and follows Zach into the kitchen. He stops in the doorway and rubs at his eyes and blearily watches as Zach takes a loaf of bread and some peanut butter and jelly out of the grocery bag. As if on cue, his stomach rumbles, and he puts a hand to it in a useless and belated effort to stifle the noise.

Zach turns his head and raises an eyebrow. “Hungry, I’m guessing?”

“Uhh. Yes. But I can--” He takes a step forward, holding out his hands, intending to take the stuff from Zach and make the food himself. These past couple days of feeling weak and helpless have been irritating, and he feels a sudden need to prove his self-sufficiency.

Zach rolls his eyes and turns away though, putting his back to Chris. “Just go sit down. I’ve got it.”

Chris frowns in confusion. There is something off about Zach’s voice, about the way there is no real bite behind it, even though he is clearly trying to project annoyance. There is something off about the way his shoulders tense and curl inward as he wrestles with the bread bag and then the jelly jar.

“I said go sit,” he snaps without turning around, obviously aware that Chris is still standing there watching him. “And put some more of that cream on. I don’t want them saying you’re damaged goods and refusing to reward me.”

The line sounds stale at this point, and Chris almost calls him out on it, but then decides against it. “Oh, well, when you put it like that, it _really_ makes me want to get well,” he says instead. He turns on his heel and stalks back into the living room anyway though. It’s in his best interests to get better, to get stronger, so he doesn’t have to rely on Zach and so maybe there is a chance he can get away. He isn’t willing to complete give up hope.

The burn cream didn’t seem to do much for the supernaturally blackened patch of skin on his side, but it did make it hurt slightly less, so when Chris lifts up his shirt and rubs some more of the salve into it, it doesn’t sting quite as badly as it did the previous night. It also doesn’t hurt every time he breathes anymore, which is good. Maybe he’ll be able to avoid embarrassing himself by passing out again. Maybe Zach will stop treating him like a dainty shrinking violet.

A couple minutes later, Zach emerges from the kitchen with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and hands one to Chris, who wastes no time in wolfing it down.

“You’re welcome,” Zach snarks. Chris just raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. He is too busy chewing, and trying to suck peanut butter off the roof of his mouth. Food is the best, he decides. He is going to miss it when he goes back to heaven.

Once he has licked the last of the jelly off his fingers, he looks over at Zach, who has sat down on the other end of the couch. “Thank you,” he forces himself to say, through gritted teeth. 

Zach shrugs one shoulder but doesn’t say anything. He is staring at the opposite wall with slightly narrowed eyes. Chris just watches him for a moment, waiting for him to say what’s on his mind. Obviously something is weird this morning. 

It’s several minutes before he finally looks over at Chris, his eyes shadowed. “How many demons do you think you killed?”

Chris isn’t expecting the question at all. He didn’t expect them to have a single serious conversation actually. So far, Zach seems to communicate mostly in insults, threats, and sarcasm, so the thought of discussing matters of life and death and war with him makes Chris feel uneasy. He wishes he hadn’t eaten his sandwich so fast so he could hide behind it now.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I wasn’t exactly counting. How many angels do you think _you_ killed?”

“A lot.” The corner of Zach’s mouth tilts upward, but his expression is too hollow for it to really be called a smirk. Chris watches as he puts the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and chews, his expression still oddly thoughtful. It’s strange to see him this way, with the wheels turning in his head for reasons other than coming up with new ways to taunt Chris. It’s easier to forget he’s a demon. It’s easier to forget that they’re different.

“Why though?” Chris finds himself asking. He turns a little more toward Zach on the couch, bringing one knee up so he can sit sideways. In spite of himself, he really wants to hear the answer to this question, to understand why Zach hates his kind so much.

“I could ask you the same question.” Zach sucks some peanut butter off his thumb and doesn’t quite meet Chris’s eyes.

“Because demons are evil,” he says automatically.

“Spoken like a good little soldier.”

Chris scowls, clenching his fists on top of his thighs. “And what do you think you are?”

“Not a mindless robot.”

“So _why_? then”

Zach looks away and falls silent, betraying the fact that he doesn’t really have an answer to that question. It’s oddly comforting to see him speechless. It makes Chris feel a kind of kinship with him for a moment, before he vehemently pushes those thoughts away, shocked that he could think such a blasphemous thing in the first place. Angels and demons have nothing in common. Their hatred of each other is one of the immutable laws of the universe. Chris can’t let himself forget that just because Zach has rubbed some cream on his side and made him a sandwich.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zach says finally. He gets up from the couch and snatches the paper plate out of Chris’s hand. “The ‘why’ isn’t important. It is what it is, and right now things are working out pretty good for me, so I’m not going to question it.”

“Right now you’re stuck here with me, so don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Chris says. “Plus, you’re the one who brought it up in the first place.”.

“Yeah, well.” But again Zach falls silent. He turns and walks toward the kitchen with the plates, even though there is no trash can in there--even though this whole _place_ is a trash can. When he comes back, his expression is stony. “You know, if all angels are as whiny and moralistic as you, it’s no wonder we fight you anyway. You couldn’t even be grateful that I’m taking care of you, that I got us food. Or that I’m not just being indiscriminately evil to you--”

“Oh, so I should _thank_ you for not being evil? I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Since evil is my nature, yeah, I think that’s how it works.” Zach advances on him now, until he’s practically standing between his spread legs, and Chris struggles to his feet, intent on not giving Zach the satisfaction of being all looming and intimidating. He isn’t as weak as he was yesterday, or the day before, and he is a little tired of being treated like a helpless, disobedient puppy.

Standing face to face, eye to eye, is weird though. It makes Chris notice things he hasn’t noticed before, like how long Zach’s eyelashes are, or how soft his hair looks, or how his eyes are a lighter brown than he thought--not the dark, cold black they seemed to be at first. He doesn’t want to notice any of these things though, so he ends up staring somewhere in the vicinity of Zach’s collarbone instead.

“Maybe it isn’t as much in your nature as you think,” Chris says, more to goad Zach than because he actually believes it. But it _is_ hard to explain how unexpectedly accommodating Zach has been. “Like you said, you’ve been taking care of me. That doesn’t sound too evil.”

“Shut up,” Zach hisses, and when Chris looks up again, the eyes he looks into are unexpectedly vulnerable. Zach looks uncertain, like he thinks he might have been caught, and that makes Chris’s breath catch and his stomach flip. Something isn’t right. This is the part where Zach is supposed to reiterate how there is no good in him and how his only concern for Chris is in the interest of keeping him alive. And yet he looks almost scared. It makes Chris scared too.

The moment passes quickly though. The shutters slam closed behind Zach’s eyes, and he reached out and catches hold of Chris’s chin, his grip just shy of bruising. “Shut up,” he repeats. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before Chris can protest or pull away, Zach’s mouth is on his. The shock of it makes him stumble backward, but Zach presses a hand into the small of his back to steady him while he bites down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him make a small sound of discomfort. Chris brings his hands up to push Zach away, but they end up resting uselessly against his chest. His brain is still struggling to catch up with what is happening, but in the midst of his confusion, his body seems to have jumped on board with the proceedings. His heart is pounding, and his skin is breaking out in goosebumps, and there is a strange heat in the pit of his stomach, and it is the best he has felt since he woke up in that forest clearing with Zach hovering over him.

It isn’t until Zach’s tongue forces its way into his mouth and he hears himself groan that Chris snaps out of it. This is all wrong. This can’t be happening. He shoves Zach away from him with a grunt, then swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, hoping he can somehow erase all evidence that Zach’s mouth was ever there. It doesn’t work though. His lips are tingling, and he tastes copper from where Zach might have bit him just a little too hard, and he doesn’t think he is going to be able to put this out of his mind for quite some time, if ever.

“What…what…” he stammers. Zach is just staring at him, his breath coming fast, and that scary, uncertain look is back. “What the hell?” Chris finally forces out, aware of the irony in his word choice.

Zach just keeps staring, and his speechlessness only makes it all seem that much worse. Chris wants to hear that the kiss was just an intimidation tactic, but something about the way Zach is looking at him makes that seem unlikely. Suddenly, Chris wants to run away, and he almost starts to before he remembers what will happen if he does. Instead, he darts past Zach, who makes no move to stop him, and heads for the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He leans back against it, letting his head thump against the partially rotted wood, and shuts his eyes, trying to get himself under control.

It isn’t until a few minutes pass and his head is a little clearer that he realizes he is half hard.

He reaches down and gives himself a squeeze through his pants, then gasps when he realizes that isn’t exactly helping. The concept of sexual pleasure isn’t a mystery to him--all angels know the pitfalls and temptations that surround the act--but the actual sensations themselves are entirely foreign. And terrifying. And the fact that _Zach_ caused this doesn’t help.

Chris drops his hand to his side and thunks his head against the door again. He has no idea how long he stands there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what he is supposed to do now, whether he can look Zach in the eye again. It seems like an eternity, and yet it will never be enough time for Chris to feel comfortable going out there and facing him.

Eventually, there is a quiet knock at the door though, and Chris startles.

“Chris?” says Zach’s muffled voice.

“Leave me alone,” Chris snaps.

There is silence for a few moments, long enough for Chris to think that Zach actually listened to him for once, but then he speaks up again. “Chris, I think I know where the nearest door is.”

Chris’s eyes widen, and then he squeezes them shut again, focusing his thoughts away from the rebellion of his body. Sure enough, he can hear the call in his mind, the soft, beckoning song of the doorway that leads back home. Evidently they have recovered just enough for that much faint awareness, which gives Chris a renewed sense of hope. 

He turns around and yanks the door open, and Zach is right there. His expression is blank, like he is bent on not acknowledging what happened between them earlier, and that is just fine with Chris. They can never acknowledge it again for all he cares. It would be better that way.

“Let’s go,” Chris says.

“We aren’t going to be able to leave yet.”

“I know. Let’s just...I want to see it.” Maybe just knowing that they actually will be able to go home soon will make them both stop acting so strangely. 

Zach searches his face carefully for a moment, then finally nods and takes a step back, leaving room for Chris to exist the bedroom.

“Okay. We can go,” he says, his voice oddly quiet.

Chris pushes past him and heads for the front door, pointedly ignoring the heat in his cheeks and the flutter in his stomach.

This will all be over soon, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading! We really appreciate it.
> 
> Also, you can find us on tumblr [here (semperama)](http://semper-ama.tumblr.com/) and [here (nostalgia-in-starlight)](http://nostalgia-in-starlight.tumblr.com/).


	6. Chapter 6

Zach doesn't follow immediately when Chris brushes past him, red faced but hopeful, and stomps down the stairs. He remains standing where he is, listening to the sound of heavy footsteps on loose floorboards and the momentary pause when Chris gets to the door. The pause lasts no more than a second or two before Zach hears the door creak open and subsequent footsteps fading as Chris steps out into the woods. There's a part of him that's tempted to see just how far Chris is willing to go and if he's foolish enough to put himself through that crippling pain again. Zach has to admit that there's a large part of him that wishes Chris _would_ be stupid enough to do just that. Hearing the angel scream in pain would probably help to dispel whatever has been wrong with him recently. 

His lips are still tingling from his earlier loss of control when Chris had unknowingly fueled the burn of desire within him and Zach had been unable to stop himself from acting. That's not really what's bothering him though. It's not that he regrets kissing Chris (and he sincerely hopes that it's this new mortality that's clouding his judgement and not anything worse). He had enjoyed it, even though it had been short. It's just that there was more than mere lust involved as far as Zach is concerned, which is entirely a problem. He can't be developing feelings for an angel. Especially not an ungrateful, whiny one. It's just wrong. 

Groaning under his breath, he makes his way down the stairs, half surprised that Chris has been gone for this long and half expecting to hear screaming at any moment. It doesn't really occur to Zach until he's at the opened door that Chris might be so upset that he _is_ stupid enough to put himself through the pain of separation again. Hadn't he threatened to use it to put himself out of misery? 

The door slams behind him as Zach starts off at a brisk pace into the woods. He can't see Chris ahead because of the dense foliage, so he's counting on the angel to have followed the pulse of the doorway in the back of their minds and taken a straight path through the trees. "You better not pull something stupid, Chris," he mutters under his breath and doesn't waste time in determining whether the briskness of his steps is due to concern for Chris or concern for his prisoner. 

He comes across Chris just as he is pulling himself up from the ground through the use of a nearby tree. If Zach is more relieved than he should be, he doesn't let that show. The redness in Chris's face from when he left the house is completely gone, replaced by an unhealthy paleness. Even from a few feet away, Zach can see the tremors running through Chris's body, most likely residual of whatever pain he had experienced before Zach had arrived. "You're an idiot," Zach comments when Chris finally regains his balance enough to look up at him. Zach doesn't miss the way he's still shaking. Instead of retorting, Chris simply glares. "Though, I'm impressed that you actually had the balls to try something so stupid." 

Chris doesn't reply to that either. 

Sighing dramatically, Zach takes a step forward. "Don't come closer!" Chris snaps immediately and Zach is surprised enough to pause. He raises an eyebrow and folds his arms. "Don't touch me and don't come close to me. Let's just get to the doorway and forget everything that happened today." Zach doesn't get the chance to reply before Chris is whirling around with the intention to continue down the path. However, Zach notes with a small smirk, the trembling is preventing Chris from even letting go of the tree. He moves forward on instinct, coming up behind Chris and sliding his arms around the trim waist, pressing his whole body along the length of Chris's back. Chris jumps at the contact and moves to push Zach away, but Zach is quick to trap Chris's wrists with his hands. 

"Why can't you just respect my wishes for once?" Chris demands even as he sags against Zach's front. The trembling in his body stops almost immediately.

"Because you obviously don't know what's good for you," Zach states. He nuzzles the side of Chris's neck without thinking and breathes in the distinctive scent. Do all angels smell this good? Chris shivers in his arms and Zach’s lips curl upward at the pleasure it evokes. Feelings be damned. It's been too long since he's felt this good and it's about time he stop second guessing his nature.

"I know _you're_ not good for me," Chris huffs indignantly. 

Zach presses closer, canting his pelvis just so, and doesn't miss the hitch in Chris's breathing. "Is that so?"

Chris's shaky exhale is his only reply. 

He presses small, open mouthed kisses to the exposed skin of Chris's neck, making the angel gasp loudly at the sensation. Zach hums in satisfaction. "Hmm, I think you like this." 

"You should let go of me now," Chris says, voice shaky, and Zach is somewhat impressed that he managed to even form words with the way his body is reacting to his touch.

He pauses in his kissing. "Why?"

"Just stop," Chris groans when Zach reattaches himself to the delectable skin. "Please." Zach pauses again, and after some consideration, and lets out a sigh before letting go. Occasionally he's surprised at his own patience. At least they're making progress.

"Only because you asked so nicely." 

"Thank you," Chris whispers and Zach smirks again. He moves around the angel to get a look at his flushed face. Blue eyes raise to meet his gaze, pupils dilated. Zach grins. This is entirely too much fun. Unwanted underlying feelings or not, it'd be a shame to not try out these mortal bodies before returning to the spirit world. 

"Let's just go see the doorway, okay? Just see where it is," Chris asks after a moment, sounding a little defeated by the whole situation. 

Zach nods in agreement and turns to lead the way. They don't say anything as they walk. Chris stays a little too close the whole time and for once Zach doesn't bother to mock him. If Chris catches him leering far too many times to be justifiable, he doesn't comment either.

~o~

The doorway isn't at all what Zach had been expecting. Nestled between two jutting boulders, it’s most likely imperceptible to anyone who's not specifically looking for it. To a mere passerby, it doesn't even appear to exist, but for Zach and most likely for Chris as well, it looks like one of those mirages over hot pavement. There's also something unmistakably luring about it. Zach finds himself padding right up to the shimmery edge of the doorway without conscious thought, pulled along by some unseen force. He's reaching out to touch it when a hand suddenly grabs his outstretched arm

"Don't!" 

"What?!" Zach demands, rounding on Chris and effectively breaking himself out of the trance like state. Chris shifts his eyes from Zach's face to the door and back a couple times before dropping his gaze to the ground. 

"We don't know if it's safe," he says.

"It's the way back, Chris. What did you think would happen?" Zach inquires, though the urge to call Chris wimp and tease again is at the tip of his tongue. 

"I don't know," Chris admits, looking at the portal with an indiscernible expression on his face. "We're not strong enough to open it yet, and we don't know if it's dangerous unopened." 

"That's a little paranoid."

Chris huffs in frustration and Zach catches the glare directed at him. "I'm the prisoner of a...a demon," Chris says flatly. "I have a right to be paranoid."

That makes Zach laugh a little. "You do have a point there." He considers the doorway for a bit and decides that Chris may be right about that too. There's no point in acting rashly now and risk hurting himself. Not when he's getting so close to getting that reward. They'll be strong enough to get back to the spirit realm in the near future, Zach knows. In the meantime, there's hardly any rush as they're not really under a time limit as far as he knows. 

But there's more to it than that.

Zach stares at the space for another long moment, transfixed by the way it distorts everything behind it through it's shifting surface. He can't deny that there's a little part of him that almost doesn't want to step through the doorway even if they could open it. At least, there's a tiny part of him that perhaps wants to linger just a little longer in the human world before going back to that war. Chris had asked him why he killed angels and the truth is that he had been just as much of a pawn as he had accused Chris of being. None of them were given the choice to fight or not fight. They were simply made to believe that it was their duty to kill their enemies; no questions asked. Maybe he had grown to enjoy killing angels and receiving praises sometime during the process, but now that Zach has the time and ability to think about it, he realizes just how much it comes down to him never having had the choice in the first place. He may have been born and bred as a demon and therefore be intrinsically evil to some extent, but being in the human world over the past few days has made him recognize the potential of his own free will. For the first time in his existence, he’s able to choose what to do. Here, he can choose to kill rather than being forced to kill. Plus, Zach thinks in the back of his mind, he would’ve never had the chance to kiss an angel. So maybe he's not quite ready to go back to the spirit realm after all.

Blinking to break himself out of the strange, slightly melancholic mood, Zach turns away from the doorway. Next to him, Chris seems to be stuck in a similar mood if the slight frown on his face is any indication. "I think we've been here long enough," Zach says but Chris doesn't seem to hear him. "Chris?" 

A full body shudder shakes Chris out of his reverie and when he turns, Zach glimpses a momentary glimmer of tears in his blue eyes. Puzzled by the seemingly random expression, Zach's about to ask what's wrong when he suddenly finds himself with an armful of Chris. His arms wrap instinctively around the slightly smaller frame despite his bewilderment.

"What--" he starts, but Chris cuts him off.

"Don't," Chris pleads, voice muffled by the hollow of Zach's throat, "don't ask. I don’t want to talk about it."

Zach's raises his eyebrows at that but he refrains from asking. Maybe Chris had realized something while looking into the doorway just as he had. Maybe it's just more crushing for Chris to realize that he's never had any choice in combat because he's an angel and intrinsically compassionate...or whatever. Zach’s not normally one to offer comfort but he has to admit that this feels nice. 

"Just be nice for a little bit, okay? I just..." Chris trails off but Zach isn't really listening anyway. He runs a hand experimentally up and down his angel's back and marvels a little at the way Chris seems to relax. 

Yes. 

There's definitely potential in this newly discovered freedom.

~o~

"What's happening to us?" Chris asks out of the blue as they're cleaning up the remains of their small dinner. Zach glances up from the bag he's tying and gives Chris an inquiring look. He can probably guess what Chris is talking about but pretends to be ignorant.

"What do you mean?"

"This," Chris says, and gestures wildly at the kitchen in general. 

"What about it?"

"This isn't how it's supposed to work," Chris clarifies, confirming Zach's suspicion. "I'm your prisoner of war. We're mortal enemies! But we're here being...domestic!"

"If that's what you want to call it," Zach quips, purposefully avoiding the conversation he thinks this will lead into. He puts away the last of the food and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. Across from him, Chris falters momentarily in uncertainty before he quickly masks it by plowing forward with whatever he wanted to say.

"It's just...this isn't...I'm not supposed to..." 

"Just spit it out, Chris."

Despite not wanting to talk about this per se, Zach knows that Chris will bring up the topic at one point or another. Now is as good of a time as any for the angel to spit out whatever is bothering him. Besides, he's getting turned on by Chris's insecurity. Or something. 

"You kissed me," Chris heaves out after a long moment. It sounds much less like an accusation than Zach had expected. In lieu of a reply, he inclines his head in agreement. It's not like there's any doubt about this. "Why?"

Zach considers the question, but only briefly. He shrugs. "You're attractive, and I'm a hot-blooded demon." It's not the answer that Chris was looking for, Zach knows from the unhappy frown that appears on Chris's face, but he's not particularly interested in letting Chris know any of the turmoil going on in his head. 

"And everything that happened in the forest? Invading my personal space like that?" Chris asks, and this time his tone is definitely more demanding. 

"Same answer," Zach answers in a bored tone just to throw Chris off. He levels a look at Chris, holding his gaze, challenging."If I recall correctly, I'm not the only one at fault here. You invaded my personal space too." Only a second passes before blue eyes widen in hurt.

"You said you'd be nice."

Exhaling in a mirthless laugh, Zach rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "I said no such thing."

The hurt expression half transforms into a glare on Chris's face and Zach almost wants to laugh at how very un-threatening the angel appears. "You know, I don't want to be thinking about this. I wish these memories don't exist. I--"

"Look, I don't want to talk about this, okay?" Zach interjects, pushing off the counter to step closer to Chris. He thinks it might be time for some diversion tactics. There's no way he's letting a conversation about their maybe feelings happen. "Obviously, I find you physically attractive so I did something about it. End of story. Let's move on."

"To what?"

"Oh I don't know," Zach drawls, crowding Chris against the island counter, "maybe to the fact that I want to know what it's like to sleep with an angel?" He's smirking in sadistic glee even before he finishes the sentence. It takes a second for his words to sink in and when it does, Chris is suddenly red in the face and sputtering indignantly. 

"You asshole!" he accuses, shoving half heartedly at Zach when Zach presses in close for the second time that day. "You're disgusting!"

Zach rolls his eyes again. "Name calling is so immature, Chris." One arm encircles Chris's waist while Zach lifts a hand to caress a flushed cheek. "I'll let you off the hook because I think you're scared and because contrary to popular belief, I _can_ be nice."

Though he's already expecting it, Zach can't stop the thrum of excitement when Chris doesn't shake him off. "Yeah, right," the angel mumbles on a shaky exhale. 

"Just say the word and I'll stop," Zach says.

"For now," Chris adds, blue eyes searching and Zach nods because it's exactly what he had been thinking and there's no point in denying it. 

He spares a glance down at Chris's full lips and licks his own in anticipation. For a long moment, Zach is sure that Chris would tell him to stop, but then a look of resolve steals over Chris's face, wiping away the hesitation. He takes that as an invitation to lunge forward and capture Chris's mouth in a searing kiss. Like before, Chris makes a small noise of shock in the back of his throat. This time, though, he lets Zach in without protest. It only makes Zach want him more. He shoves a leg between Chris's, grinding himself into Chris and they both gasp at the sensation. Before Chris has the chance to catch his breath, Zach is yanking him forward again to mash their mouths together. He barely feels Chris holding on to him tightly as if keeping himself tethered. He doesn't know how long they stand there in the kitchen making out. The next thing he knows, he's dragging Chris down the hallway and into the living room, yanking Chris's shirt off in the process. Then he's shoving Chris down onto the couch and crawling on to cover Chris's pliant body with his own. 

"Za..." Chris is panting between kisses but Zach won't let him finish whatever it is he wants to say. He's too busy alternating between sucking bruises into every inch of exposed skin and plundering that delicious mouth to do any kind of talking. But then Chris is shoving him away for real and Zach growls in frustration.

"What?" He pauses long enough to make his displeasure known.

"Stop for a second will you?" Chris pants as Zach pulls back to look at him. It's really not Zach's fault that the mussed hair and flushed face only makes the angel more desirable. "I just...I've never done this before," Chris stammers, and the color in his face spreads down his neck. He's uncertain, and slightly scared, and to Zach the vulnerability is enticing.

It takes a moment for Zach's lust addled brain to even comprehend. "Seriously?" he asks, his voice a mixture of incredulity and giddiness. This is better than he had anticipated. He leans in and captures the swollen lips in another kiss. 

"I've never..." Chris starts when they break apart. Zach shushes him.

"Shh," he breathes, "just let me."


	7. Chapter 7

Chris can’t breathe.

It’s a surreal thought be having, considering a few days ago breathing wasn’t something he was really concerned with. But everything was different a few days ago though. _Everything_ was different. Now, he has lungs that are struggling to pull in air, a ribcage that is struggling to expand, a heart beating triple-time in his chest. 

When he curls his fingers in Zach’s hair, he fully intends to tug him away, and to try to explain to him again that they can’t do this, that _he_ can’t do this. Somehow that isn’t happening though. Instead, he finds himself cradling the back of Zach’s head, then arching into his mouth. It feels so good--so good that he suddenly understands why it’s wrong. There is a good chance half the angels in heaven would willingly fall if they felt what Chris feels right now. 

Zach is sucking at the space under his jaw, where his pulse is thrumming fast and hard just beneath the skin. He isn’t being gentle--there is a hint of teeth that is just shy of painful--but Chris finds that this pain isn’t the same as the pain that he has experienced so far. This is pain he doesn’t want to end or escape, and he doesn’t understand why that is. There are a lot of things he doesn’t understand now. 

He certainly didn’t understand anything back there by the portal, where for a moment the very idea of stepping through it was the scariest thing in the world--and not even because he would be going back to face certain torture. That was an abstract annoyance at this point, something that he couldn’t quite make himself believe was a real possibility, because certainly Zach would relent, right? The part that scared him was that he could picture it all so clearly--returning to the battlefield, witnessing more senseless death, having to raise his hand to strike down demons who could be just like Zach. They could all just be pawns in a game they never asked to play. And so many of them would never have the chance to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or wake up with a crick in their neck or feel this odd mix of pleasure-pain that Chris is feeling now that makes everything else in the world seem diminished and far away.

They say that what you don’t know can’t hurt you, but now Chris knows, and there is nothing more terrifying than that.

No, that’s not true. Zach’s hands are more terrifying than that, when they yank down Chris’s ratty jeans and borrowed underwear and then smooth over his thighs in a way that is far more tender and worshipful than Chris would ever have expected. Another protest is on the tip of Chris’s tongue, but he doesn’t get a chance to voice it, because all of a sudden Zach is twirling his tongue languidly around the head of his cock, and then taking him into his mouth, and Chris isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to speak again. His fingers go to Zach’s hair, twisting in the strands and holding on for dear life as Zach strips away the last of his resolve.

Chris’s hips start to come up off the couch, but Zach gets an arm across his stomach and pushes him back down, then hums in a way that sounds entirely too self-satisfied. Chris is far from having the presence of mind to care about Zach’s smugness at the moment though. He’s too busy trying to get more of Zach’s mouth, too busy being scared that it’ll go away. 

As if reading his mind, Zach pulls off and looks up at him. A truly embarrassing whine escapes Chris’s mouth and his fingers tighten in Zach’s hair, trying in vain to push him back down. Zach smirks and taps his hip. “Turn over.”

“No,” Chris says automatically, shaking his head. “Don’t want to.” Even though it makes no sense, it makes him feel better to be able to see Zach. 

Zach runs his hand up over Chris’s waist, then ghosts his fingers over the burn on his side, making him shiver and flinch away a little bit. “I said turn over,” he says again, his voice low and dark. Then, he meets Chris’s eyes, and Chris sees something there that makes his stomach flutter. “I’m going to take care of you,” he adds, so quietly that Chris almost can’t be sure he heard it at all. 

But he shakes his head again. “No. If you want to...to…”

“Say it,” Zach growls.

“If you want to fuck me, we’re going to do it like this.”

Chris lifts his chin defiantly, and a strange expression passes over Zach’s face, a mixture of uncertainty and naked desire that’s there and gone so fast it would have been easy to miss. But Chris didn’t miss it. His stomach flutters, and suddenly he wishes that Zach would kiss him again, because it’s easier not to think when they’re kissing. When Chris tugs at his shoulders though, Zach just shakes his head and pushes his hands away, then sits up a little and tugs his shirt over his head. But that’s fine, Chris decides. That’s good too. Now he can look, and not feel exposed by comparison. 

The comfort of watching Zach strip doesn’t last long though. When he pushes his pants and underwear off and his cock springs free, Chris’s mouth goes dry. He has a basic understanding of how this is supposed to work--or rather, how it’s _not_ supposed to work, considering how high it is on the list of things he should never be doing--but staring at the reality of it brings back a great deal of his fear. He starts to push himself on his elbows. ready to start protesting again, but as soon as he opens his mouth, Zach leans in and pushes two fingers past his lips. 

“Suck,” he says into Chris’s ear, then nips at his earlobe, and Chris is obeying before he really even has a chance to think about it. He swirls his tongue around Zach’s fingers, mimicking the things Zach was doing with his mouth a minute ago, and it seems to work, because Zach’s breath starts to get shallow, and when he pulls back a little bit to look at Chris’s face, his eyes are darker than ever.

“Your mouth,” Zach mutters. “No angel should have a mouth like this. It’s obscene.”

Chris hums and sucks a little harder, pleased at the sudden rush of power he feels. He has been helpless and useless this whole time, so seeing that Zach so affected by this feels better than it has any right to. He licks across Zach’s fingerprints, insinuates his tongue between his fingers, lifts his head a little so he can take them deeper, and when Zach finally lets a little sound of pleasure escape, Chris feels like he could crow in victory. 

“That’s enough,” Zach says finally, withdrawing his fingers from Chris’s mouth. Chris can’t help but grin a little at the raggedness in his voice, but whatever self-satisfaction he feels is quickly stolen when Zach’s wet fingers search between his legs and circle his hole.

“Ah,” he hisses. “Wait.”

He mostly expects Zach to ignore him and drive in anyway, but, to his surprise, he _does_ wait. His slick fingers continue their slow circle, his other hand stroking at the underside of Chris’s thigh, and it goes from scary to maddening very quickly. Zach is pressing just hard enough that Chris keeps expecting him to slip inside, but not hard enough that he actually does, and the anticipation of it makes Chris’s nerve endings light up. He wriggles a little bit, not sure if he is trying to get away or get closer, but Zach just continues petting him, seemingly unconcerned.

“Zach,” he pleads, when he can’t take anymore. “Zach, come on--”

And then, with a satisfied chuckle, Zach does. His fingers breach him and then continue their slow, inexorable slide--regardless of Chris’s pitiful whine--right up until his knuckles are flush with his skin. Again, Chris wonders at the thin line between pleasure and pain, the way it burns and feels like too much, too full, and yet it also makes him want more, more, more, _now_. Is this what it’s always like, he wonders? Is this how humans feel? Or is every feeling bigger and more poignant and more intense because this is his first time, or because his humanity is temporary, or because everything somehow seems different down here on Earth? 

It doesn’t matter though. Nothing matters, because Zach’s hand is moving and his fingers are crooking just so, and Chris arches off the couch, desperate to get him deeper and faster and to get to that place he can tell is just up ahead, the place where pain gives way to pleasure.

“Good?” Zach asks him, just as he scissors his fingers on the way out and ratchets up the burn a few notches.

But even as Chris is gritting his teeth, he nods. “Good,” he chokes out. 

“Good,” Zach repeats, twisting his wrist. There is an odd look on concentration on his face, like he is trying to figure out how _he_ feels about it, which is...strange. Zach is the one who is supposed to really be getting off on this. He is the one who wanted to sully an angel. He is the one who has been pushing the physical boundaries from the beginning. He should be all cocky grins and taunts right now, but he is oddly pensive, and that’s unsettling.

“Zach,” Chris breathes, reaching out and catching his wrist. “I...you can...just do it, okay?”

“You want me?” Zach asks, some of the bravado creeping back into his voice. He searches Chris’s face, a smirk on his lips, but there is still that hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Tell me. Say it.”

Chris wants to refuse, but not because it isn’t true. Because he doesn’t want to give Zach the satisfaction. Because he doesn’t want Zach to have something else to hold over his head. But then Zach stops moving his hand, his fingers stilling inside Chris, and Chris thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t get more, something, anything.

“I want you,” he says, forcing himself to meet Zach’s eyes. “I want you, I want you inside me.”

Zach looks momentarily stunned. For a moment, neither of them move, just stare at each other, breathing hard, the tension stretching out between them like a physical thing. Then, Zach moves again, his fingers sliding out of Chris, and the tension snaps. All of a sudden, Zach is everywhere at once, his mouth on Chris’s, his tongue in his mouth, his hips slotting between Chris’s thighs, his hands stroking his chest, his stomach. Chris wraps his arms around Zach and just tries to hold on, groaning into his mouth and spreading his legs wider when Zach’s cock nudges his hole.

“Ah, fuck, gotta--” Zach stammers, then pushes himself up a little so he can spit in his hand and then slick himself up. 

“C’mon,” Chris begs. “C’mon, do it, do--”

It’s like nothing Chris has ever felt before or probably will ever feel again--the insistent burn, the fullness, the way it feels like he can’t take any more and yet Zach just keeps giving him inch after torturous inch. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, and that suits Chris just fine, because even if it’s uncomfortable for now, he feels frantic, desperate for everything Zach can give him. Zach crushes their mouths together again and curls his tongue over the ridge of Chris’s teeth and then shoves himself that last little bit inside so hard that Chris cries out and digs his fingers into Zach’s shoulders.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Zach hisses. “You feel so good.”

“Better than--?” Chris starts, but he can’t bring himself to finish the questions. He smears his mouth along Zach’s cheekbone and scratches his nails down his back while he waits to see if he’ll answer it anyway.

“Better than anything.” Zach pulls out and slides back in with a languorous but unforgiving roll of his hips, as if to prove his point. 

“Say it again,” Chris moans. If he can just believe that--if he can believe that this is the best thing and that maybe it means something to Zach--then maybe his chest will stop aching.

“Better than anything, Chris. You’re...you’re…”

But he doesn’t finish the sentence, just buries his face in Chris’s neck and then nips at his collarbone and then skates a hand down his side, over the burn, making him gasp and squirm and buck his hips on instinct. Zach responds by rocking into him in earnest, until Chris can’t help the steady stream of sounds trickling from his mouth. He wants to plead with Zach not to stop, but he’s afraid that the moment he says it, Zach _will_ stop, so he bites down on his lip and clutches harder at Zach’s biceps and tries not to come completely unraveled.

It isn’t going to last long. Chris may not know exactly what this is building toward, but he knows that if Zach keeps doing what he’s doing, that end they are headed for is going to come sooner rather than later. Zach slips a hand under Chris to the small of his back and props him up a little, all the better to drive into him at just the right angle and make him let out a little sob of pleasure. 

“Zach, Zach,” he says, because it’s the only word he has in his head at the moment.

Zach brushes sweaty hair off Chris’s forehead, then leans in and mouths along his jaw. “My innocent little angel,” he says. The taunting lilt is back in his voice, but there is an underlying tenderness there that sends a shiver down Chris’s spine. “What do you want? You have to tell me.”

“Touch me,” he manages to gasp. His cock is sliding against the sweat on Zach’s stomach, but it’s not enough pressure or friction, and there’s this feeling he knows he hasn’t felt yet--one that’s just out of reach--and he needs it. He’s never needed anything more in his life.

Zach is being nice now. He doesn’t make Chris wait, just reaches down and curls his fingers around his cock and starts jacking him to to the rhythm of his hips. At first, Chris is so overwhelmed by the added sensation that he doesn’t know what to feel, so his orgasm sneaks up on him, then hits him like a bolt of lightning, pleasure sparking through his veins as he cries out and pushes himself through Zach’s fist and spills between their bodies. 

“Oh my God,” Zach says, awed, and the irreverence is lost on Chris, who can feel the exact moment Zach starts to flood him with warmth, his last few thrusts eased by the wetness of his release. And then Zach is collapsing on top of him, and he is heavy and sweaty and a hundred other things that should make Chris want to push him away, but he doesn’t. He just wraps his arms around him and hums.

At some point, Zach manages to clean them up with some rags he finds in another room, and then he cajoles Chris into stumbling up the stairs and into the bed. His side hurts again, but Zach rubs more cream into it, his fingers gentle, and then collapses into bed next to him. 

They sleep curled around each other, like lovers.

~o~

When Chris wakes, Zach is still asleep next to him, one arm flung possessively across his chest, fingers curled over his ribs like he wants to keep him close. For a minute or two, it feels good. Then the confusion starts to come back.

Nothing about the past few days has felt nearly as bad as it should have. Zach isn’t at all what Chris would have expected from him. He isn’t cruel or heartless, and he has even shown a surprising amount of gentleness at times, making Chris question everything he was told about demons. More than that, being stuck here with Zach has shown Chris a life that he didn’t even know could exist--one where he can feel things he has never felt before and do things he has never done before. He should feel suffocated by the supernatural tether that is binding him to Zach, but the thought of being stuck at Zach’s side is much less scary than the thought of being stuck back in heaven, made to fight in a war that he no longer wants any part of. 

He tries to slip out from under Zach’s arm without disturbing him, but it doesn’t work. His eyes fly open the moment Chris touches his arm, and Chris’s heart leaps in his chest when the first thing Zach does is smile a sleepy smile and scoot in a little closer. It only takes a second for him to come back to himself though, and then he is frowning, sliding his arm slowly off Chris’s chest and then scrubbing his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Chris says. He didn’t mean for it to sound like an apology, but it does.

“It’s fine,” Zach says, his voice rough. He sits up and rubs at his arms, and Chris slowly sits up too, studiously keeps his eyes away from Zach’s bare chest. He probably shouldn’t feel embarrassed to look, given what Zach did to him last night, but he can’t help it. Shame is bubbling up inside him--not because he regrets what they did, but because he wishes it hadn’t happened quite that way. He wishes…

Well, he wishes a lot of things. And he’s going to go crazy if he doesn’t start saying some of them out loud.

“Look, Zach--”

“No,” Zach snaps, making Chris’s eyes widen. “No, we’re not having some stupid heart to heart. I’m not going to sit here and share feelings. So if that’s what you--”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Chris interrupts. Zach just scowls at him and flings the covers back and turns to get out of bed. Chris is thankful that at some point during the previous night they both pulled their underwear back on, because there is no way he could deal with a naked Zach right now. No matter how confused he is, no matter how angry he is at Zach’s continued resistance to actually _talking_ , he can’t deny his attraction, and he probably can’t hide it either. He would rather not have to try when he has important things to say.

“So, out with it then,” Zach says.

Chris gets out of bed too, just because he doesn’t like to be sitting while Zach is standing. It makes him feel even more vulnerable. He shifts nervously from foot to foot, staring at Zach with the bed between them like a gulf, and then shakes his head helplessly. “I don’t think we should go back.”

For a moment, he isn’t sure Zach heard him. He just keeps staring at Chris, his expression blank, like he is waiting for him to finish his thought. Chris just curls his hands into fists at his side and waits.

“What do you mean?” Zach says slowly, warily.

“I mean...I mean I don’t think we should go back. To heaven, to hell, to the war. I don’t think we should go back.” He is trying so hard to make his voice sound firm, but it’s shaking in spite of him. He refuses to break eye contact with Zach though. “I don’t _want_ to go back.”

“Are you...are you out of your mind?” All of a sudden, Zach looks scared. His eyes have gone wide and he is staring somewhere in the vicinity of Chris’s forehead now, not quite meeting his eyes anymore. “We can’t _stay here_. This isn’t our home.”

“We can do whatever we want!” Chris takes a step forward, like he is going to walk around the bed, but Zach flinches, and it stops him in his tracks. “We can, Zach. Don’t you get it? We don’t have to be mindless pawns in--”

“Stop it,” Zach growls. “Just stop. You’re not making any sense. And anyway, it’s not up to you. I’ve fed you, I’ve clothed you, I’ve kept you safe these past few days so that I can...so that I can…” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Chris keeps waiting for him to, but he doesn’t. He is looking down at his feet now, so this time he doesn’t flinch when Chris starts around the bed toward him. He doesn’t flinch until Chris gets right up into his space and puts a hand on his arm.

“So that you can what? Turn me in? Is that really what you want?”

Zach looks up, his eyes wild, his expression stricken, like Chris has just said something truly horrifying. He jerks his arm out of his grip and then takes a few steps backward, until his hip bumps the half-rotted bedside table and his hisses in surprise. Then, his expression darkens, his shoulders stiffening. “You have no idea what I want, Chris.”

“I think I had a pretty good idea last night,” Chris snaps, with all the bravado that he doesn’t feel.

Zach sneers at him. “You idiot. Last night had nothing to do with anything. It was fun, and that was it.”

No. No, that’s not right. Chris felt the way Zach touched him, and he saw how he looked at him. That can’t be the truth. His stomach rolls. His head spins.

“Tomorrow, or the next day, when we’re fully recovered, I’m going to drag you back to that door, and we’re going to walk through it,” Zach continues, his voice hard. “And I’m going to turn you over, and I’m going to go on with my life, and I’m going to forget you ever existed.”

Chris’s throat closes up. He can’t breathe again, and this time there is no pleasure in the pain. With burning eyes, he shuffles backward, until his back hits the wall, then turns and heads for the door.

“Where are you--”

But he doesn’t stay to listen to the end of Zach’s question. He takes the steps two at a time, then heads to the living room to yank on his pants and his shirt. Zach’s footsteps haven’t followed him down the stairs thankfully, probably because he thinks Chris is just having a temper tantrum. But this is no temper tantrum. This is escape--one way or another.

When he opens the front door, he hears Zach finally come to the top of the stairs, but he doesn’t give him the satisfaction of turning to look at him. His mind is made up. He doesn’t _need_ to look back. Either this is going to kill him, or it’s going to break the bond, but either way, problem solved. He can’t stand to stay with Zach one second longer.

Chris takes off into the woods at full speed. He doesn’t know how long he needs to run before it kicks in. He doesn’t know if it’ll take longer if he’s going fast, or if it’ll be like a wall that he runs into. All he knows is that he needs to get away. He can hear Zach’s voice, but it sounds so distant, so quiet beneath the rush of blood in his ears. 

When it hits him, it hits him all at once, but he tries to fight through it, tries to keep running. It doesn’t work. After just three more steps, when it feels like he is about to be ripped to pieces, his vision starts to darken. He slows, then nearly stops, staggering forward a half a step at a time, then not at all.

Darkness overtakes him, and he falls.


	8. Chapter 8

The house shakes with the force of the door slamming shut behind Chris. Hand on the banister, Zach hesitates at the bottom of the stairs. He realized Chris's intentions the moment the angel had rushed down the stairs to get out of the house. He knows that this time Chris fully intends to use the pain as a means of permanent escape; knows that this time Chris will most likely succeed if he doesn't do something. His body lurches forward half heartedly, but his hand maintains its grip on the rotting banister. Zach is _torn_.

A part of him is screaming at him to run after Chris and bring him back to safety. But there is also another part of him demanding that he do nothing. If the angel dies, he will have no prisoner to bring back to hell. If the angel dies, Zach won't have to face his feelings for him. Against everything he wants, it is the latter that keeps him rooted to the spot. Chris had been right, the promise of reward has long since ceased to be his main motive. Their time in the mortal world has made him realize that the war and whatever benefits he will receive no longer hold the same meaning as before. If anything, Zach does have to admit that his growing regard for the angel means more to him than being a pawn in that godforsaken conflict between heaven and hell. Last night solidified the feeling.

And that? That _scares_ him. 

Zach isn't used to being scared. He's used to feeding off of fear. He's used to fear being a source of energy and comfort. Demons have no fear for themselves. So he'd lied because that's the only way he could think of to get out of confronting the extent of his feelings. He lied so that maybe Chris would make the decision for him; so that he wouldn't have to choose between instinct and his feelings, wouldn't have to want a life other than the one he's known. Prying his hand off the banister, Zach stalks to the door and flings it open. Outside, the sky is clear, the temperature warm; nothing like how Zach is feeling. There's no sign of Chris.

He scans the clearing in front of him, a deep frown on his face. The right thing to do would be to go out and find Chris. Every second that passes increases the likelihood that Chris has gone too far and Zach knows that he should hurry. But there's also a part of him that just wants to sit down on the steps until the sun dips below the horizon and the stars come out. Come daylight, he would leave this place and return to the spirit realm and just...just forget everything. If that means leaving a part of himself behind, well, it'll probably hurt less than this. 

His fists clench. With a long suffering sigh, Zach walks out onto the front steps. For a moment his foot hovers above the first step; then he's _running_. He tears across the clearing, yelling Chris's name at the top of his lungs. Zach doesn't know when or how he made the decision to start running, but now that he is he can't stop. Suddenly it's as if nothing else matters; as if Chris is suddenly the most important thing in the world. Well. If they're staying then he may as well be. 

"Chris!" Zach calls again as he runs into the trees. "Where are you?!" His breaths are too loud in his ears but he doesn't dare stop to listen for a response. He knows that the pain is activated by distance and he has to keep moving. Heart thundering, Zach plows on, hoping that Chris took a straight path like last time. Hoping, against all odds and against all he knows, that he's not too late. "Chris!" He gets no answer except the crunch of his footsteps on the forest floor. 

Zach doesn't know how far he gets but the further he runs the more doubt begins to cloud his mind. There's no way Chris got this far, right? What if he hadn't been running a straight line? What if Zach is getting further rather than closer? He slides to a stop, chest heaving, and bends over from the exertion. Hands propped on his knees, Zach berates himself. He shouldn't have lied. For once in his whole existence there's finally something worth living for and he was a coward. Groaning loudly in frustration, he wrenches himself upright and casts his gaze wildly around the area. Everything about this is so wrong. Zach takes a deep breath to yell again even though he knows it's probably pointless at this point. That's when he sees him. 

Just like the first time Zach ever saw him here in the mortal world, Chris is crumpled on the ground, face down and unmoving. He's not swathed in the whites of the heavens this time, but wearing the clothes Zach had found for him. An angel. _His_ angel. The breath leaves his lungs in a stutter and he's running again before he can even think. "Chris!" he exclaims, falling to his knees next to the unmoving figure. The angel doesn't respond. Zach reaches out and for a second, he finds himself hesitating like before. For a second, he doesn't really want to know if Chris is alive. His hands hover over the still body, suspended in indecision. He almost pulls away, but the angel suddenly shudders beneath his palms. Gasping softly in surprise, Zach quickly rolls Chris onto his back and sighs a little in relief when he sees that Chris is alive. The relief is short lived, though, when the angel makes no other movement, eyes closed, face drawn. "Chris?" Zach asks, voice unsteady. He shoves at Chris but gets no response. "Chris? Wake up." He waits on a bated breath, but still gets no reply. Around them, the forest is quiet as if it, too, is waiting for Chris to wake. Seconds pass and Zach remains kneeling next to the angel, eyes never leaving his face, willing him to wake. The seconds turn into minutes and Zach can feel the panic bubbling in his chest and closing his throat. He shakes Chris again, gentle but desperate. 

"Chris," he chokes out and fuck it he's done pretending. No more denial. No more lies. He trails a hand down the length of one arm to grip Chris's. "Please just wake up. Please." Chris's hand is cold--so different from the fiery warmth of last night. God, he's so stupid. So, so stupid. Tears rise, unbidden, and Zach squeezes his eyes shut against them on instinct. He didn't know he could cry. His head falls back and he opens his eyes to a tear-blurred sky. How did he end up here? For a long moment he wishes he could go back to that moment on the battlefield where he had wounded the angel. He should've killed him when he had the chance. None of this would be happening if he hadn't been so enamored by the idea of a reward, so hungry for that recognition. None of this would be happening if he had just killed Chris like he killed the other angels, and continued fighting. Tilting his head, Zach lowers his eyes to the angel lying before him and allows his tears to fall. The wetness on his face isn’t at all familiar or comforting. This is so wrong. Reaching out, Zach closes his hand around Chris’s throat. His fingers tremble against the steady pulse he feels there but he stills them by curling them just so. Chris doesn’t struggle, doesn’t wake. Zach could end this right now. All it would take is enough pressure and Chris would suffocate. He squeezes a little harder, and for one single moment, Chris stops breathing. 

That’s what breaks him. Between one heartbeat and the next, Zach wrenches his hand away from Chris’s throat. The angel inhales sharply, coughing slightly, but it’s Zach who gasps for air as if he had been the one being strangled. His eyes burn with fresh tears and this time he doesn’t bother to fight them. He can’t do it. 

Tracing his eyes over Chris's face and down the length of his body, he recalls how Chris had felt underneath him, surrounded by him. They were supposed to be enemies. Chris was his prisoner. Somewhere along the way, it became so much more complicated than that. With a shaky hand, he strokes the hair back from Chris’s forehead. _I wish I never knew you_. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of Chris's mouth. Chris doesn't stir, but Zach wasn't expecting him to. He lingers there for a moment, then pulls back to scrub at his eyes, wiping away the tears on his face, collecting himself. Reaching out, he slips one arm under Chris's shoulders and one behind his knees and gathers him close. Zach stands with the angel held gently in his arms and Chris's head comes to rest against his shoulder. He spares a moment to brush his cheek over the soft hair. "You'll be alright, Chris," he says softly, throat tightening with guilt. The words are as much for Chris's sake as for his own reassurance. "I'm going to take care of you." Sure footed, he carries his angel towards their home.

~o~

"I'm sorry, Chris," Zach whispers to Chris for what feels like the hundredth time. "I'm so sorry." It's starting to get dark outside and Chris is still unconscious. Zach's sitting, leaning against the worn headboard of the large bed with Chris still cradled in his arms. He's pulled the blankets around them some time ago but Chris still doesn't feel warm. Zach wouldn't say he's scared yet, but he's definitely worried. He doesn't really know what he can do for Chris besides keeping him warm and safe. Even then, he doesn't know if that'll be enough. Sighing, he tightens his hold on Chris and leans back against the headboard. "Just wake up, okay? I know I was a jerk and I'm sorry. I lied. I do want to talk about this...but you have to wake up, Chris." Zach closes his eyes in defeat and settles himself to keep waiting. He's going to sit here until Chris wakes, no matter how long it takes. 

His head is swimming with memories of the past few days, mulling over the little details that brought them to this point. It was never an inevitability that they end up like this, but in retrospect Zach can see how his attraction and power-induced lust for Chris eventually shifted to a deeper regard. He had no conscious control of it. It just... happened. Here against the litany of apologies in his mind and the part of him that wishes he had never met Chris, Zach admits a burning need to explore the potentials of the two of them together. As far as he knows, such a relationship between an angel and a demon has never existed. Though, if they end up choosing to stay in the mortal world, that would cease to matter. 

He's so caught up in his thoughts that Zach doesn't even notice the movement at first. But then Chris is shifting slightly in his arms and groaning and Zach wrenches his attention back to the present just in time to see blue eyes struggling to open. Chris’s head lolls weakly against his shoulder. “Hey,” Zach says softly. It’s a couple seconds before blue eyes are fluttering open, weary and confused. A small frown appears on Chris’s face the moment Zach sees the recognition in those eyes. The body in his arms tenses, but Zach keeps his hold.

“Zach?” Chris asks, voice slightly hoarse from disuse. He’s tense but not trying to get away so Zach count as a good thing. “Wha--”

“Do you remember what happened?” Zach interrupts, watching Chris’s expression intently. The frown on Chris’s deepens at the question, his brows drawing together as he thinks. Any other night, Zach would find the expression slightly comical as Chris still looks more confused than not, but tonight he’s here to make things better.

“I ran away,” Chris states, bitter. His eyes meet Zach’s and Zach forces himself to hold the gaze. An awkward silence permeates the small space between them. For all the time he’s spent thinking about the situation, Zach didn’t exactly think about how this conversation would go. “I didn’t think you’d come after me.” Zach searches Chris’s face, trying to determine where this is headed. He has a lot of explaining to do, but he also needs to know what Chris is thinking. 

“I almost didn’t,” Zach admits quietly, still not breaking eye contact. He doesn’t really know why he’s telling Chris this part, but feels it’s as good of a place to start as any. A little tactless, perhaps, but still a place to start. Contrary to the reaction Zach’s expecting, Chris doesn’t try to wrench himself out of his arms at the words. Rather, he appears to consider Zach’s admission sedately. Not that Zach’s complaining. He’s enjoying the feeling of Chris lying in his arms like this.

“Then why did you?” Chris demands, equally quiet. The confusion in his eyes have been replaced by a sort of determination. It doesn’t take long for Zach to realize the look as a challenge. Chris is testing him, giving him a second chance at the messed up conversation from this morning. Though his instincts rage at this realization (how dare the angel challenge him?) Zach has to smile internally. He admires Chris’s bravery--has admired it, though he’s just now admitting it to himself.

Two can play at this game. “Because I lied to you, Chris.” Zach doesn’t miss the flicker of hurt that passes over Chris’s face at his words. “Last night wasn’t…wasn’t just fun. It was...it is...more than that.” Some other day, Zach would be embarrassed about how hard it is to get the words out, but today, everything has changed. Chris stares at him and doesn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes are bright in the dim light, and at the very least, Zach let’s himself savor the relief of seeing them again. 

“You were an asshole, you know that?” Chris finally says, though his voice is less accusing than Zach thinks he deserves. He moves to sit up so Zach helps him, keeping a hand on his back in case he needed the support. “I wanted to die. I was determined to die.”

“I know.” 

Chris moves again so that he’s more or less straddling Zach’s lap, bringing them face to face. Zach let’s him without comment. “I know this isn’t how it was supposed to be. I’m your prisoner and we’re supposed to be enemies...but I’m tired of doing things the way we’re supposed to. This,” Chris gestures loosely at the space between them, “is more important to me now. For the first time in my life I can choose what I want to do. I chose to give you a part of me, Zach. And you _hurt_ me.” 

This time, it’s Zach who stares for awhile. Chris is panting slightly, winded by his small speech. His face is pinched in pain though he’s trying valiantly to hide it. Zach notices all of these things though. He reaches out and cups Chris’s face between his palms, thumbs smoothing over warm skin. “I’m sorry,” is all he has to say, but it’s the most sincere thing he can say. “I’m sorry.” Blue eyes widen at his apology moments before Zach suddenly finds himself wrapped in a tight embrace. He returns it, looping his own arms around Chris and holding him close. 

“You feel it too, right?” Chris asks quietly, face pressed into the crook of Zach’s neck. His body is tense with uncertainty. Zach hesitates for a second-not because he disagrees but because he feels it too and it’s so much more than he can put into words. He nods firmly and feels the tension drain out of Chris. They’re both silent, but for now, it’s enough. Zach buries his nose in Chris’s hair and breathes deeply. Chris smells familiar in a way that he hadn’t thought about before and it’s...comforting. 

“What happens now?” Zach tightens his arms around the angel and exhales softly. He has a pretty good idea of where this is headed, but Chris is trembling slightly-from pain or fatigue he doesn’t know- and maybe everything else can wait until morning. 

“Nothing yet.”

“But…” Chris trails off, hesitant, sounding slightly wary. Zach let’s him pull back so that they’re face to face again.

“What?”

“We need to talk. Figure out what we’re going to do.” 

“We will in the morning. You need to rest.” Chris is looking at him with clear uncertainty on his face. It makes something clench in his chest. Zach knows a part of Chris is expecting him to react poorly again. He shifts a hand up to cradle the back of Chris’s head and pulls him into a soft kiss. Despite his uncertainty, Chris let’s him. “I promise we’ll talk about it,” Zach says when they break apart. 

This time, it’s Chris who leans in first for another kiss. “Okay.” Zach shifts them so that they’re laying on the bed instead of sitting against the headboard. Though he’s gentle in doing so, Chris’s face still scrunches up slightly from the movement.

“You alright?” Zach asks in concern the moment the expression crosses Chris’s face. He raises himself up on an elbow and frowns. 

“Fine,” Chris reassures him, but his the dip between his brows doesn’t disappear, “just feels like I fell out of the sky or something.” It takes a moment, but Zach laughs a little at the lame attempt at humor. 

“I’m sorry I’m such a jerk,” he says in all seriousness. “I’m not used to being like this.” There’s more he wants to say but there are so many things in his mind he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s not used to caring about other beings, much less having feelings for them. He’s not used to caring for somebody else and enjoying it. 

Chris waves it off with a small smile. “Neither am I.” Zach leans in and presses another kiss to those inviting lips, savoring the feeling when Chris kisses back with no hesitation. Kissing an angel turned out to be a lot better than he had imagined. All too soon, he’s pulling away and rolling to reach the bedside table. He fumbles a little but quickly finds the tube of medicine where he’d left it last night. 

“Lift up your shirt,” he tells Chris as he sits up and unscrews the lid. 

“What?” Despite his surprise, despite everything, Chris does. Zach squeezes the cream onto his fingers and gently rubs it into the burn. The motion is familiar and soothing, so Zach takes his time. He grins slightly when Chris let’s out a small sound of pleasure. “I like it when you’re nice,” Chris mumbles when Zach finishes, sounding half asleep.

“Hush,” he chides, tugging Chris’s shirt back over his exposed skin and capping the tube of medicine. He’s debating whether he himself wants to rest yet when Chris tugs at his sleeve. 

“Zach?” 

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” Though Zach knows Chris is asking him to stay in bed, he hears the other unspoken question in the request. He contemplates the answer to both before lying down and pulling the blankets over them. Without prompting, Chris curls into his arms and let’s out a content sigh. Any doubts Zach had drains away with the sound. He presses a tender kiss to Chris’s forehead and holds his angel tightly against his chest.

“I’ll stay.”


	9. Chapter 9

This time it is Zach who wakes first--or maybe he didn’t sleep at all; Chris isn’t sure. All he knows is that when he opens his eyes, the first thing he see is Zach’s warm brown ones staring back at him, and then Zach’s fingers are reach out to smooth hair off his forehead, and finally Chris lets himself believe that maybe things are going to be okay. Maybe they will be able to figure all this out. Maybe Zach is done being dumb and resistant and burying all his fear like he’s afraid Chris will think less of him for it. 

By some unspoken agreement, they don’t jump into the big important conversation right away. Chris still feels drained, even after what probably was the best sleep he has had since they fell, and Zach insists on making a couple sandwiches out of their steadily dwindling food supply, mumbling something about Chris needing to eat to keep his strength up. He spends about as much time watching Chris chew as he does eating his own. A couple days ago, Chris would have been convinced Zach was just making sure his trophy was in mint condition, but now he sees affection and worry in Zach’s expression, and it makes him feel warm and safe, despite how much uncertainty they still are facing.

“So,” Zach says, when they have both put their empty plates down on the coffee table. Chris waits for him to go on, but he doesn’t, which shouldn’t be much of a surprise at this point. He hasn’t been the best about actually saying what’s on his mind so far. Chris has no intention of letting him off the hook this time though.

“It’s your turn to talk,” he insists. “You already heard what I have to say.”

Zach studies him for a long moment, then takes a deep breath. “Would you still want to stay here if I didn’t?”

The question catches Chris off guard. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of being separated from Zach until now--not by choice anyway. The thought makes his stomach turn. “You don’t want to stay?”

“I didn’t say that,” Zach says with surprising gentleness. “I’m just asking you.”

It’s some kind of test then. Unfortunately, Chris has not the faintest clue what the right answer is, so he sighs and starts with the truth. “Yes. I would. If you want to go back, that’s your decision, but...the way I feel about you has nothing to do with the fact that I can’t...I can’t kill any more demons. Not after this.”

“Okay,” Zach breathes, sounding a little relieved. Chris guesses that he somehow managed to stumble on the right answer after all. “Okay, because if you decide in a week or a month or a year that you don’t want anything to do with me, you aren’t going to be able to go back. Once it’s done, it’s done. Once we give up our immortality, we can’t get it back.”

“I’m not going to want it back,” Chris says with conviction. “It has strings attached. I never saw the strings before, but I can see them now, and I don’t want them anymore.”

“Neither do I,” Zach says quietly. Chris scoots closer to him on the couch, then takes his hand. “I just want to make sure that you realize that...whatever it is you think you feel about me...it might not last. It might just be because you’re weak and tired and I’m the only one here. It doesn’t make sense for you to--”

“Shut up,” Chris says, his voice hardening. “Just...just stop. Just because this doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it’s not real. It doesn’t _have_ to make sense. I know what I feel.”

“Do you?” Zach asks, lifting a challenging eyebrow.

Chris sighs. “You know, the ‘I’m such a dick’ act is a lot less convincing after I woke up in your arms, you unbelievable idiot.” The insult comes out sound a lot like a term of endearment, and Chris feels a little triumphant when it makes the corner of Zach’s mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Look, I’m not promising you forever, but you...you’ve made me feel things I haven’t felt before, and that’s not insignificant. I don’t know if it’s going to last, but I know that for now...I want to be with you.”

Zach doesn’t speak again for several seconds, and when he does, his voice is so quiet that Chris has to lean in to hear him. “I want to be with you too.” 

The way Chris’s heart expands at the words is another new feeling, and one of the most pleasant ones he has felt yet. “So let’s do it. Let’s stop talking about it and do it.”

“It’s going to be hard, you know.” Zach squeezes his hand. Chris wonders what it is that is making him try to be the voice of reason. He always thought demons were creatures of impulse, giving in to passions rather than making reasoned, logical decisions, but obviously he was wrong about that too. This whole experience has obliterated so many preconceived notions that he hardly knows what truth is anymore. “We’re going to have to work. We might go hungry. Nothing’s going to be easy anymore.”

“I don’t care about easy.” 

Zach sighs, then changes tactics. “I won’t be able to take care of you.”

“Good. Maybe then I’ll be able to take care of _you_.” There is more than one way to take care of someone. Maybe Zach won’t be able to use his demonic powers of suggestion to steal them food anymore, but that had unsettled Chris anyway. He prefers the feeling of Zach’s gentle fingers when they were tending to the burn on his side--a fully human gesture of comfort that he doesn’t need his powers for. They can take care of each other without any supernatural abilities. 

Zach looks a little unsure still, but he must be out of arguments, because he falls silent, looking down at their joined hands rather than at Chris’s face. Chris just bites his tongue and lets Zach think for a while. It takes a ridiculous amount of patience, but this isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. 

Finally, Zach shifts a little bit, pressing his shoulder against Chris’s and giving his hand another squeeze. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do it.”

“You’re sure?” Chris has to say, even though the last thing he wants to do right now is second-guess.

“I’m sure,” Zach confirms, finally meeting Chris’s eyes. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I just...I want to move on. I’m tired of being in limbo.”

Zach nods like he understands, then reaches up and takes Chris’s face in his hands. “In case something goes wrong…”

“Nothing is going to go wrong.” Chris covers Zach’s hands with his own and tries to project confidence. He’s nervous too--his stomach is churning and he’s not sure they should have eaten first--but he is also sure they are making the right decision. Angels are creatures of conviction, and this time Chris’s convictions are based on his experiences rather than blind faith, so he feels more sure than ever. This is right for them.

Zach bites his lip, then leans in and kisses Chris hard, like he did the previous night, only this time there is more fear than lust behind the kiss. Chris opens up to it anyway, hoping that since his words haven’t done much to make him feel better, maybe this will. Some of the tension does seem to drain out of him, and when they pull back to look at each other, some of the uncertainty has gone from his expression.

“You first,” he says, but Chris shakes his head immediately.

“No, at the same time.”

Zach looks like he wants to argue, but Chris sets his jaw and glares, and he can see the moment Zach decides it’s not worth arguing with him. He lowers their joined hands to Zach’s lap and smiles what he hopes is a reassuring smile. They close their eyes in unison.

It doesn’t take much searching to find the bright candle that flickers inside of him, sending the light of heaven coursing through his veins. It takes even less to snuff it out. Chris had expected a struggle, like his angelicness would hold on tight and he would have to yank it out, but evidently once the decision is made, it doesn’t take much to reject that part of himself. 

It doesn’t take much _effort_ , that is, but the pain more than makes up for that. It isn’t as bad as what he felt when he was trying to escape Zach, but this pain is both physical _and_ emotional, like his heart is breaking and also being literally ripped from his chest at the same time. Chris is dimly aware that Zach’s hands are clutching him hard, but that sensation feels far away, dwarfed by the agony he is experiencing in his mind and his body. It probably doesn’t last more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity before it starts to subside, leaving him gasping and shaking and reaching for Zach’s hands.

But Zach isn’t there anymore. Chris gropes around blindly before he finally is able to force his eyes open. His vision is blurry at first, so it takes a little bit before he is able to see Zach, slumped on the floor, his expression slack with unconsciousness. Chris’s heart clenches with fear, and he slides off the couch onto the floor and grips Zach’s shirt, giving him a little shake. “Zach? Zach!” He shakes him again, then moves his hands to his face, which feels scarily cold. His lips are slightly blue, and his pulse is way too slow when Chris presses two fingers under his jaw. 

Chris didn’t even know it was dangerous. He never would have made Zach do it if he thought this could happen. It must have been different for him. Maybe the powers of hell are much more reluctant to let go of the ones they have. Maybe Zach isn’t as strong as he has been pretending to be.

“Zach,” he says again, smoothing hair off Zach’s clammy forehead. “Come on. You’re not allowed to leave me.” He kisses Zach’s temple, his eyelid, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He clutches Zach close and rubs his arms, his back, like he’s trying to warm him up. He tilts his head back and kisses him fiercely, like he can fix him by just wanting it bad enough.

Maybe miracles don’t take the power of heaven or hell. It certainly feels like a miracle when Zach stirs and inhales sharply, the color flooding back into his face. Chris pulls back and stares in disbelief as his eyelids flutter and then open, close, open again, and his eyes focus on his face.

“Chris,” Zach says hoarsely. “Did it…?”

“Work? Yeah...I-I think so.” Chris is clutching Zach’s shoulders hard, afraid to let go of him. His heart is still pounding. “You sort of...were unconscious. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Zach says, even though he doesn’t sound like it. He sits up a little straighter, his expression pained. “I wasn’t expecting it to be that bad.”

Chris leans in and kisses him again, just because he can, and he is flooded with relief at the fact that Zach’s mouth is warm and responsive now, though he is kissing back a little weakly. They are both alive though--really _alive_ now. Chris feels exhausted and twice as hungry as he did a moment ago, but it’s okay. It’s good. It’s just part of being human, and he loves it.

“I think it’s my turn to put _you_ to bed,” he murmurs against Zach’s lips before kissing him one more time and then pulling away. He gets slowly to his feet and holds out a hand to pull Zach up after him. “I told you I was going to take care of you.”

Zach flashes him a wan smile and leans heavily against him. “We have so much to figure out though.”

They really do. They have whole new lives to figure out. Everything is going to be different from here on it, and it’s scary, but it’s also wonderful. 

And they can’t think about it now. Chris shakes his head and steers Zach toward the stairs, gripping his waist tight to keep him from falling off his shaky legs. “We have the rest of our lives to figure it all out,” he says.

“The rest of our lives,” Zach repeats, like he is trying out the phrase to see if he likes it. Then, he smiles a genuine smile. Chris has seen the green fields of heaven, seen angelic faces that would probably bring tears to any mortal’s eyes, but that smile is easily the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He tightens his grip on Zach’s waist, and Zach leans his head against his shoulder. “I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and cheering us on along the way. It means a lot to us both! We had a great time writing this, and we hope you enjoyed reading it.
> 
> You can find us on tumblr [here (nostalgia-in-starlight)](http://nostalgia-in-starlight.tumblr.com/) and [here (semper-ama)](http://semper-ama.tumblr.com/).


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